"Quilt Arnold called this morning to say so. 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. “You permitted me then to call you my friend. “Do not look so uncomfortable, both of you,” she begged. She was good to me for the two years I stayed with her, she had a nice apartment in Galveston. Been in the wars with both the major and Capting Roding, I have,’ Trodger informed her loftily. " CHAPTER XIII.
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