"What shall I do? If I persist, I shall destroy her. The farmer had become obsessed with her and asked her to marry. 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. “Lucy, this isn’t funny anymore. “I think she would,” she decided. It did not take a mind reader to glean that she had suddenly gained the boy’s obsessive attention.
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