“The white unaggressive woman who corrects and nurses and serves, and is worshipped and betrayed—the martyr-queen of men, the white mother. I just like you, Mary, and we’ve had a lot of fun. ’ He scratched his chin as if he thought about it, but covertly kept a careful study of what he could see of her face. 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. Michelle’s eyes were red and bloodshot. But behind these things which you have said to me there must be others of which I know nothing. Out of these he selected a faded parchment and restored the rest to safety.
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