The man looked closely at Anna as she crossed the footway, and as he held her skirt from the wheel he pressed something into her hand. From the threshold she looked her accuser steadily and coldly in the face. ‘Very well, never mind. " "I never heard of anybody who could," declared McClintock. The oblique ruddy lighting distorted them oddly, made queer bars and patches of shadow upon their clothes. 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.
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