Maggot, kissing her hand to him. And what did she do? Not only did she cut his hand in her rage, but she refused to let him help her, and then she ran away from him. ‘You ought to be glad someone cares enough about your wretched little neck to try and save it. She was nestled under his bedspread. True, on board the ships she had watched young men from afar, but only with that normal curiosity which is aroused in the presence of any new species. 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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