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. “But I have forbidden it!” he said, raising his voice. At first she thought that the woman was just a servant. She had nothing to say for herself. ” Brendon rose and came towards her with outstretched hand. He had abandoned his oars, and the boat was drifting with the stream towards the enemy. .
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