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. " "Well then, to change it," replied Thames, gravely, "suppose I should be obliged to leave you. Diane did not hear the footsteps on her brick patio or the audible click of the back door lock being compromised. If my conjectures are right, this boy would stay there indefinitely.
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