He could not see these two shrinking misses capering about in a nun’s habit and brandishing a defiant pistol. "Oh God!" exclaimed Jack, in a tone of the bitterest anguish. ***** Ruth and the doctor returned to the hotel at four. 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. His legs were fine and strong, he told her that he had been a warrior in ancient times, to which she snorted in disgust. She ought to be softened and tender and confidential at this phase of her life.
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