If the Wastrel had not turned the instant he did, the ball would have missed him; as it was he turned directly into its path. " "Give me the brandy, and I'll tell you," replied Wood. Michelle moaned and whined, and Diane resigned herself to 11:00. Anna rummaged about in her dressingcase, and finally drew out a letter. Cathy reached out and touched Lucy’s chin with her two fingers, gently commanding her attention. 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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