"She has flown up stairs," replied the widow. 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. And this was an adventure of which he had dreamed from boyhood: aboard a windjammer on the South Seas. ” Michelle streamed over to them as if on cue, her eyes not meeting Mike’s.
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