” “You fellows,” Ennison said quietly, “are getting a little wild. "Your boast, you see, was a little premature, Mr. He had particular reasons for wanting to keep Spurlock away from the jetty. 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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