CHAPTER XXII Every morning at dawn it was Spurlock's custom to take a plunge in the lagoon. He was vaguely uneasy; he knew not what about. There was no past, no future, only this exhilarating present. Insulting cries became frequent and various, but for the most part she could not understand what was said. He sees men all defiled by coarse thoughts, coarse ways of living cruelties. Ye gods! what a wilderness it is! Every one trying to get the better of every one, every one regardless of every one—it’s one of those days when every one bumps against you—every one pouring coal smoke into the air and making confusion worse confounded, motor omnibuses clattering and smelling, a horse down in the Tottenham Court Road, an old woman at the corner coughing dreadfully—all the painful sights of a great city, and here you come into it to take your chances. ‘To take a baby all the way to France without a wet-nurse. '" "Slave?" echoed Jack. ” She yelled. The action steadied him; and there was a phase of irony, too, that helped. And I have wanted to so very much. “I am giving my understudy a chance. ‘Why did you bring him? I hate him. .
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