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. ” “Well,” Mrs. And then I'll pay off old scores. Oh, goodness! Bilking! Ann Veronica, you’re a bilker!” Pause. Wood had prevented him from paying much attention to the previous scene.
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