There was so much to see, so much to do, that he became what he had once been normally, a lovable boy. He was holding the ring to the light, and narrowly examining the inscription. 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. Sheila was finishing her laughter as Lucy brought an elbow down on the back of her head, expertly snapping the vertebra that connected Sheila’s head to her shoulders. Shari would know what to do, but Shari was out with her friend Lisa. He touched her hand, soft and cool to his fingers—she turned at once to look at him.
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