He looked distant, irritated. "A good idea!" exclaimed the carpenter. “Shut up, you little faggot. But tell her this, too. Again silence. I'm an old hand at such things. . 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 have the means to take up your rightful place. She was her mother’s child, fair of face, doted upon and spoiled by her attentions. But, if you've a spark of love for me, don't meddle with anything in that house.
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