The thought had not even occurred to him. You heard her. 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. A door, it may be remembered, opened from Wild's dwelling into this yard. "Rowland," she rejoined, "you strive in vain to terrify me into compliance with your wishes. Lucy had caught it when it was a millimeter away from hitting her teeth.
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