These daughters! He gnawed his pen and reflected, tore the sheet up, and began again. “I have no wish,” he said, “to altogether ignore the fact that you are my wife’s sister, and have therefore a certain claim upon me. 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. “Aunt!” she said, “I can’t—” Then she caught a wild appeal in her aunt’s blue eye, halted, and the door clicked upon them. Mike was already on dishwasher duty when John rang the doorbell. Annabel passed on with a strained nod to her sister, and Sir John’s bow was a miracle of icy displeasure. She required no instructions from books; her wit and beauty were her own. He moved, after quiet intervals, with a quick little movement, and ever and again stroked his small mustache and coughed a selfconscious cough. “Amazing. ” “I can’t work. " "Why, that must be about the time of the Great Storm," rejoined Jackson.
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