But the orchestra had never had a finer hour, and everyone was aware of it. Wood," cried David, pouring out a glass of the spirit, and offering it to the carpenter, "that'll warm the cockles of your heart. Supposing he too wanted love and his arms were as empty as hers? Some living thing that depended upon her. The doleful procession at once assumed a festive character. 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. Without whisky," went on McClintock, "your irritability is beyond tolerance. Her name was Rhea. The young lady I was with is not married at all. "Be silent," said Jonathan, striding deliberately into the room; "these cries will avail you nothing.
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