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. “You must tell me the truth, and I will see that no harm comes to you. " He did not pause to consider how she had learned that he had imagination; he comprehended only the direct challenge. At the sound of the door Ann Veronica uncovered a tearless face, and with one swift movement assumed a conversational attitude.
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