CHAPTER XXV
Spurlock pushed back his helmet and sat down in the white sand, buckling his
knees and folding his arms around them—pondering. But I was portentous, I can assure you. The thing rankled in her mind night and day. The kindly
faced landlady had failed to catch his name, and said he was a tall, handsome
gentleman with a great black mustache. “You have even her name. After listening
attentively for a short time without drawing breath, he became convinced that his
apprehensions were groundless, and, greatly relieved, sat down upon the chair to
rest himself and prepare for further efforts. Where was this
kindly world she had drawn so rosily in fancy? Disillusion everywhere. Befuddle yourself, if you want to. “Annabel at last,” he shouted. The next
door neighbor's dog, chained outside, let out a single
bark, but was silent as soon as she turned in that
direction, instinctively afraid. It was enough. "All my life I've dreamed of something like this," he said, divertingly, with a
gesture which included the yacht. Spurlock had sensed what had gone completely over McClintock's head—that
this was the playing of a soul in damnation.
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