CHAPTER XXIV Spurlock's novel was a tale of regeneration. It saved me the bother of being studied. It would have given me intense satisfaction to have been able to catch a French spy. He waved a hand toward the sea. “I’m damned if I’ll believe it,” he muttered to himself savagely. " With no little effort—for the right words had a way of tumbling back out of reach—he marshalled his phrases, and as he uttered them, closed his eyes to lessen the possibility of a break. The old lady in the antimacassar said, abruptly, “Ah! you young people, you young people, if you only knew!” and then laughed and then mused in a marked manner; and the young man with the narrow forehead and glasses cleared his throat and asked the young man in the orange tie whether he believed that Platonic love was possible. ” She yelled back.
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