"Do you think I'm afeard of a beggarly thief-taker and his myrmidons? Not I. “I thought I saw her in town to-day,” he said. “I had no idea that it was so abominably late. 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. “Listen to me. " "That's well!" cried Jack.
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