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” Mr. ” Anna leaned back in the chair and laughed softly. ‘Then it is that you will have pity? Here we have come, we poor, for aid. Her hair once more was arranged with its old simplicity. ’ ‘This is what you say of him? Me, I find he is growling all the time like a dog. 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.
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