All at once it came to him what a fool he was to worry over this phase which was wholly suppositional. How on earth does it concern you?” Annabel laughed hardly. “I am afraid your broken dinner engagement will not be so easy to explain. It was a face that matched her body, so pure and beautiful that any man would have killed for her. “This ain’t no place for you. Even after this woman had gone, it seemed to Ruth that the room was kindlier than it had ever been. “One moment, if you please!” She stopped short and looked round. 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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