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. He drew a little breath and stepped back. Her feathered hat fell from her head and down her back, and she felt fingers writhing in the mass of her hair and caressing the flesh of her neck beneath so that she shivered uncontrollably. Nothing. Her heart swelled to suffocation. ‘Now what?’ The girl’s voice was shaking, and there were, he saw now, angry tears in her eyes. He was now a sophomore at Lincoln, Lucy a Junior, and Shari a Senior. ‘There is no one who could have told him this. ’ She struck her hands together. The ladies can't sleep in their beds for him; and as to the men, they daren't go to bed at all. She watched her friend rise and go towards her affianced husband, a look of mischief in her face. Besides, she will do no such thing. Maggot.
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