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White was scattered across the long stretches of pine trees and corn fields. ‘Indeed?’ Gerald said politely. A hundred pounds to the man who takes him. They then took off their boots, and crept stealthily up stairs, treading upon the point of their toes so cautiously, that not a board creaked beneath their weight. 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 had gained respect all about town with news of her fine marriage, and her reputation as a beauty was expanding.
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