Sheppard replied by a solemn assertion, "that he had received no assistance except from Heaven. “I have a letter for you, and no end of messages. 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. “Why should one pretend?” she whispered. But on Sunday he had been obliged to attend to certain matters for the nuns.
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