Every eye seemed focussed upon her; and yet she had known the sensation to be the conceit of her imagination. 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 is known everywhere within the radius of five hundred miles. For the past four weeks mirrors had been her delight, a new toy. He had said so. Hear me then, now, before I take one step to establish my origin, or secure my rights. "Miss Enschede and Mr.
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