’ He turned to the lodgekeeper behind him, whose shocked fear had given place to a direful frown. ‘All right, Trodger. . 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. She would just walk out of the house and go. I must obey.
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