But Spurlock was ever on guard, even when she fussed over his hair. Perhaps what urged her interest in the young man's direction was the dead whiteness of his face, the puffed eyelids and the bloodshot whites. “What a fool I am!” he muttered, standing up on the hearthrug, and leaning his elbows upon the broad mantelpiece. She pawed at him, her hunger for his body making her dizzy with anticipation. “I’m a big boy, you know. . The eyes left him, searching beside the chair for her cane. She made a quick movement, and the hand fell away.
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