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, alas! she was beautiful—and beauty is a crime not to be forgiven by a jealous woman. " "Hold your tongue, hussy!" cried her husband gruffly. ” “I don’t care. Her glasses moved quickly as her glance travelled from face to face. org For additional contact information: Dr.
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