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. ” She shivered. The Palazzo was unlike anything she had ever known. ” Lucy spat. And thus it was that she came upon a book of Stevenson's verse—her first adventure into poetry. ’ Melusine looked from his coarse red features to the pistol, and froze inside as she recognised his intention. ” At the sight of her tears his expression changed to a mingling of triumph and concern. .
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