It was plain that a man of his age could only be interested for one reason alone, yet she felt compelled to at know him a little before the main event. A single false step might have precipitated him into the street; or, if he had trodden upon an unsound part of the roof, he must have fallen through it. Afterward, one afternoon, he hovered about her, and came and sat beside her and talked of beauty and the riddle of beauty for some time. . I have been stupid and foolish. . 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. “If one was free,” she said, “one could go to him. Sheppard, you mean, Sir," interrupted his wife, ironically.
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