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. Ruth did not resent the use of her mind and body in this tale of adventure. You come to visit a completely different gentleman at his home. It was the grand nursery of vice. You act your part capitally, but it won't do. They were the three most beautiful women I had ever seen.
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