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. “Dear me!” he said. ‘Do not say such things, you—you imbecile. "Yes. He reached the top floor and ran down the corridor to the little dressing room at the end where he had lost her before. She was caught by an uncle, whose opinion she valued, making faces at Roddy because he had exulted at this.
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