” “I can assure you,” he answered, “that it isn’t a habit of mine. Stanley, whose family had been by any reckoning inconsiderable—to use the kindliest term. "It is useless to deny it," replied Jack. "He sails to-morrow morning in the very vessel by which I start," replied Jack. 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. Leaving the library by the same door she had first used to enter it earlier that day, she crossed the two little antechambers and moved on through the rooms.
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