S. 70 <9> A MARRIAGE, PART II She dreamt of the inn they had stopped at after her suicide attempt, the flea-ridden hostel her husband had angrily toted her to after the incident at the country house. We ourselves have been similarly circumstanced. Fortescue?” “At your service. 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 stabbed into her with brute force. As she crossed the square, almost within a stone’s throw of her lodgings, she came face to face with Courtlaw. ‘But I was not there. And then this girl had to sweep into and out of his life! He recalled McClintock's comment about Spurlock being the kind that fell soft. He was disquieted. ‘What Gerald wants with you has me beat.
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