Do not be a fool, Jacques. Sheppard reached the debtor's garrison. “Shari told me. 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. He stared at her stupidly, forgetting to guard against the tactics he had come to expect from her.
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