I've bumped into so much of the underside that I can't see clean any more. Spurling, for so was she named, had a warm nut-brown complexion, almost as dark as a Creole; and a moustache on her upper lip, that would have done no discredit to the oldest dragoon in the King's service. The tourist season would soon be at ebb, and it would be late in September before the tide returned. The train, meantime, had passed Marylebone Lane, when it again paused for a moment, at Jack's request, near the door of a public-house called the City of Oxford. As the Wastrel rushed, Spurlock sidestepped, swept the ball into his hand, set himself and threw it. On the way home he was still thoughtful. McClintock watched her interestedly until her golden head vanished below; then, with tolerant pity, he looked down at Spurlock, who had closed his eyes. He thought rationally; that is to say, he thought clearly, as a child thinks clearly. “Please forgive me.
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