" "It is, indeed," replied Mrs. And now, Sir Rowland," he continued, turning to the knight, "to our own concerns. He will be dependent on 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. "No"—as if her thoughts were elsewhere. ‘I do not wish to be like him, but it is entirely reasonable that it should be so.
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