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. Here was an appalling fact: all her previous loneliness had been trifling beside that which now encompassed her and would for years to come. He kissed her once inside the car. A sense of impending disaster was upon him. As soon as he was gone, Jonathan went up stairs to the audience-chamber; and, sitting down, appeared for some time buried in reflection. " "I don't care for that," replied Jack. His fatigue was tacitly understood within the family; it was a phenomenon which everyone acknowledged as related to the trades.
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