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It seemed intolerable that she should go home and admit herself beaten. Very gently indeed, Alderley grasped the handle of the door and stealthily turned it. Lucy ate without passion. “This is not every day. 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. ” He stood quite silent for a moment, his eyes fixed upon her face.

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