"You mean you were just sorry for him?" "As I would be for any human being in pain. CHAPTER XXV Spurlock pushed back his helmet and sat down in the white sand, buckling his knees and folding his arms around them—pondering. ‘I—I mean, she were—’ ‘Pretty as a picture?’ suggested Gerald. I don’t care! I’m glad I did. All this muddle to placate his conscience! "Here—quick!" McClintock thrust a cigar into Spurlock's hand. To be sure, he was attentive, respectful; but in his conduct there was none of that shameless camaraderie of a man who loved his woman and didn't care a hang if all the world knew it. F.
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