He spoke the automatic thought that entered his mind. All seemed infected with Austin's terrors except Mrs. ‘Ah, grandpére. "What is she saying to me?" Ah Cum shrugged. 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. For a short time they allowed me to share the warmth of their lives.
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