And she buried herself beneath the straw, which she tossed above her head with the wildest gestures. “You ARE a female thing at bottom,” he admitted. What would happen to her? Would her soul be shaken, twisted, hypnotized?—as it had been those other times? Music—that took out of her the sense of reality, whirled her into the clouds, that gave to her will the directless energy of a chip of wood on stormy waters. Anna crossed the street, and letting herself in at No. ” Anna had suddenly stiffened. I am sure he would go with you. 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 shuddered.
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