He waved a cordial goodbye. As he stood upon the bridge, he held down the light, and looked into the profound abyss. "Good bye, Jack! Keep up your spirits. ‘You cannot read my mind at all, monsieur. And it is your own fault that your husband dallies with me. . There must be persons tender and loving in this world. 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. “Are you a special sort of clergyman,” she said, after a pause, and looking down her nose at him, “or do you go to the Universities?” “Oh!” he said, profoundly.
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