They were both dressed in every respect alike. “What on earth did you expect me to do, then?” he asked. "You think our sex has no feeling, I suppose, Sir," cried Mrs. What had Brewis Charvill to say to that, Gerald?’ ‘He had nothing to say to it. 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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