’ If you engage me it must be upon my own merits. Courtlaw’s—I should like to oblige Mr. “Well?” he asked her tersely. “You promised faithfully to be there,” he said slowly. “You are so sweet, Lucy. I'd like to be alone now. 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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