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When I'm alone I don't mind. It was not your fault you failed. " CHAPTER XX To Spurlock it seemed as if a great iron door had swung in behind him, shutting out the old world. The road from Surbiton and Epsom ran under the arch, and, like a bright fungoid growth in the ditch, there was now appearing a sort of fourth estate of little redand-white rough-cast villas, with meretricious gables and very brassy windowblinds. “It’s—it’s a difficult question. He wore a threecornered hat, a sandy-coloured scratch wig, and had a thick woollen wrapper folded round his throat.
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