CHAPTER XXIV Spurlock's novel was a tale of regeneration. Such was the condition of his mind that the danger exhilarated rather than depressed him. "What good would it do you to destroy me? For I have courage to kill myself. Yet there was nothing for her to do. ” “Why in Heaven’s name should I forget?” he cried. . If I’m late again I’ll have to serve another detention!” She excused herself, hoping it was not too obvious she was running away. As she looked in this direction, the thief-taker raised his eyes—those gray, blood-thirsty eyes!—their glare froze the life-blood in her veins. “I was half hoping that I might be allowed to see you home.
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