He’d borne mention of the woman’s name. ” “That settles it. She dreaded living off the land again, like an animal, as she had done for dozens of years at a stretch. 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. An unhappy little sigh escaped her. ‘To take a baby all the way to France without a wet-nurse. “Mary!” He whispered loudly.
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