” He stalked around the room. 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. "Ay, Sir, from the Secretary of State, for your arrest! You're charged with hightreason. To think of him as loving her would make all that different.
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