"Good night. ” Anna drew out her purse at once. "Be ruled by me," returned Thames. She knew the significance: the red corpuscle was being burnt out by the fires of alcohol. 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. "He has robbed him.
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