The sing-song girl, her fiddle broken, was beating her forehead upon the floor and wailing: Ai, ai! Ai, ai! Spurlock—or Taber, as he called himself—sat slumped in a chair, staring with glazed eyes at nothing, absolutely uninterested in the confusion for which he was primarily accountable. " And her faithful attendant, drowned in tears, withdrew, followed by the two assistants. ”) Well, they might say that, but he knew very well that before long they would regret it. She listened, listened intently for several minutes.
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