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. He succeeded so well that by the time he asked for her name once more, she fluttered her lashes as coquettishly as ever. ’ ‘Why should I?’ ‘Because I can’t live without you!’ ‘That is your own affair, and—’ Melusine broke off, staring at him, shocked realisation kicking in her gut. “If you think it worth while,” she answered doubtfully.
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This video was uploaded to thenextfuture.net on 21-09-2024 13:27:23
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