” They were eating quails when they returned to the topic of love. “Call me Annabel. ‘You mean that there is a rival Melusine to the one he has heard about? He does not. 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 packed so hurriedly that it will take me a long time to find my things. ‘Though he didn’t mean it. Having worked thus for another quarter of an hour without being sensible of fatigue, though he was half stifled by the clouds of dust which his exertions raised, he had made a hole about three feet wide, and six high, and uncovered the iron bar. Above the work-table was a drop-light—kerosene. “You are magnificent,” she said, “but the steel of your truth is a little oversharpened.
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