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. Anything else that was said she now regarded only as an aspect of or diversion from that. He sat before a desk littered all over with papers and official looking documents. " "Come this way, Mr. " "Piano-player? Do you mean someone who plays for you?" "No, no; one of those mechanical things you play with your feet. “Poor old daddy! I wonder if he’ll spend much on the fatted calf?. ” “I know,” said Manning, nodding gravely. But you,” he continued, moving imperceptibility a little nearer to her, “you are mine. “Ssh!” said her mother, and then added, “A little natural feeling, dear. For her it was sufficient to know that somebody wanted her, that never again would she be alone, that always this boy with the dreams would be depending upon her. .
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