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 the fall was too great, and he abandoned the attempt. They vanished through the doorway. . "So I perceive," replied Jack. The poet's appearance altogether was highly prepossessing. "I know the house well; by the same token that it's a flash crib.
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