You must live for me. I'm in a funk," Spurlock confessed. "And who is this Van Gal—Gal—what's his outlandish name?" "Van Galgebrok," replied the widow. 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. To-day is for the sights; the other three days—lessons. That would not help her. ” “But don’t you see how I must stand to you? Don’t you see how it bars us from being lovers—You can’t—at first. There could not, he decided, possibly be two girls so much alike. " "Funny, about that coat. Spurling; "they're both here.
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