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. She forced herself not to think of John. . Everybody breathed a collective sigh of relief in the neighborhood, no one wanted to see how those kids would grow up. "He would return my letters unopened or destroy them.
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