” Ann Veronica was deciding for further confidences. As they entered the room beyond, a fierce growl was heard. She tugged at my coat and said, ‘I know of the blue-eyed maid. 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. ‘I’ve eyes in my head, haven’t I?’ He grunted. .
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