Nor was Jack by any means the only stripling in the room. He went to the door. 'Mrs. 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. I want to stand between you and all the force and vileness of the world. She wanted to take him in her arms and hush him, but she sat perfectly still. I will be as silent as the grave.
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