"You will not make it valueless in my eyes," he added, catching her in his arms, and pressing her to his breast. The girl only smiled at him serenely, but she laid her hand for a moment quietly upon his. The newcomer stopped short upon the threshold. Her girl, Clarice, was ten and just as pretty as a silver bell. “We’re going to be sensible. 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. No one spoke to her. He wore a threecornered hat, a sandy-coloured scratch wig, and had a thick woollen wrapper folded round his throat. A native of Manchester, he was the son of Kenelm Kneebone, a staunch Catholic, and a sergeant of dragoons, who lost his legs and his life while fighting for James the Second at the battle of the Boyne, and who had little to bequeath his son except his laurels and his loyalty to the house of Stuart. “Come, we must go home and have some luncheon. He grunted a little with effort, and she realised the gilt frame must be heavy. The fates are never so kind to me. “I am convinced you haven’t thought this out,” he went on. God only knows what I have done, or left undone. Disillusion stands in one doorway of our house and Mockery in the other.
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