“I believe that you would find her in some respects curiously altered. She relented out of exhaustion, yet he would not let her near Marina, his embrace tightening. My heart misgives me. ’ ‘Pah! Am I a fool? Have you not this moment past said how he did not?’ Agitation sent her to her feet. ’ If you engage me it must be upon my own merits. 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. One or two landladies refused her with an air of conscious virtue that she found hard to explain. " "But a man may love his wife!" cried Spurlock, utterly bewildered.
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