That is what my mother used to call me. Entranced, he stared at the name. 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. “You should quit. Emile’s fist crashed into her temple and stars exploded in her vision.
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