’ ‘Well, let us leave your name for the present. "I'll be back in a minute. ” She stared hard at her finger-nails. 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. She rose at once with a little exclamation, half of surprise, half of pleasure. He hated to destroy it; but that was the obligation imposed; and he was an honourable man.
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