Presently he reached out and laid his hand upon Spurlock's motionless shoulders. ‘Don’t fob me off, boy. Her head felt absurdly like one of those noddling manikins in the Hong-Kong curio-shops. “I’m fine,” she said softly. " Sir Rowland, meantime, throw himself on his knees beside his sister, and, clasping her chilly fingers within his own, besought her forgiveness in the most passionate terms. The spinsters—who on the morrow would vanish out of the girl's life for ever—had already left their imprint upon her imagination. “I might return the compliment, Courtlaw,” he answered, “by asking why the devil you come lurching on to the pavement like a drunken man. I like the way you shared it. How can he help you?” She threw such a look upon him that even he, Sir John Ferringhall, carpetmerchant, hide-bound Englishman, slow-witted, pompous, deliberate, felt his heart beat to music. ‘It is Yol—’ She broke off abruptly, her face collapsing into an expression of acute consternation. " "I was never going to tell anybody," she added.
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