CHAPTER XXIV Spurlock's novel was a tale of regeneration. I'm in a funk," Spurlock confessed. ’ ‘Don’t call me by name,’ she snapped. Won’t you come and have some tea with me? There is a new place in Bond Street,” he hastened to say, “where everything is very well done, and they give us music, if that is any attraction to you. She reflected before answering. The stipendiary would have done it all very differently. Was there ever such madness?” “I am afraid that I don’t understand,” Ennison answered. I keep on thinking of you. 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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