1. He proposed, he wanted to possess her! He loved her. And this is not France, you understand. And it filled seven sheets of notepaper, each written only on one side. She thought of leaving the Beck house less and less these days, though the suitcase remained packed underneath her creaky bed. 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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