Ruth, having decided a course for herself—that of renunciation—and having the strength to keep it, met these advances in precisely the mood they were offered. 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. The blood temporarily halted to her brain, Michelle slept peacefully again. The van started with a jerk and rumbled on its way. \"Hey, don't be a stranger, Lucy. But I shall lose my wager if I stay a moment longer—so here goes. That night in his den he smoked many pipes. ” She sat quite still looking at him.
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