‘Don’t be silly. ’ Which effectually silenced her. The ruse succeeded almost beyond his expectation. ‘I recall my father speaking of you as a Remenham. Why did he take me?’ Martha’s damp eyes were puzzled. She chastised herself for thinking of her husband and lord as being weak. It is really amusing. You may enjoy your pride, your arrogance—in a coffin. “What is the good of pretending?” she said. 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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