” “Why did you tell me? I thought—I thought we were going to be friends. It was not a hopeful looking group. "Took a great fancy to you. ‘I know you, Gerald. ” “But—” “He left her alone. “How’d you know it was me?” He looked conspiratorially into the room for hidden informants. The sun never shone upon a lovelier couple than now approached the altar. 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.
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