” He shook his head. You cannot arrest yourself. But understand me thoroughly: I am offering you this job because my friend wants to help you. Had she said the words aloud? He pulled her close and she nuzzled her head on his chest. She laughed softly, and leaned across the table. All the rest of his existence was subordinate to this pursuit; he lived for it, worked for it, kept himself in training for it. I can’t do it even decently myself, and I dare not run the risk of ruining all my 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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