She tiptoed to the stand and gathered up the manuscripts which she carried to a chair by the window. But—it’s one of the things I’ve just been thinking over. Into one of these he waded and rolled and rolled, despite her commands. CHAPTER XXIV Spurlock's novel was a tale of regeneration. “I’m not sure whether we don’t rather overdo all this higher education,” he said, with an effect of conveying profound meanings. Moving swiftly to the end of the corridor, he pushed open a door at random and entered a large room, which looked to have been a saloon, judging from the faded gilt and crimson wall-paper, a mirror above the fireplace which was surrounded by an ornate gilded frame, now sadly tarnished, and a worn Chippendale sofa with striped upholstery and tasselled cushions. She thought study would be better. The parlour was cluttered but cosy.
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