’ ‘What?’ Roding’s glare tried Gerald’s control severely, but he pursued his theme unheeding. “It’s like the Picture and the Bust. 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. “A ballot-box, you know,” he said, “is very largely just a box. "I didn't know the machine had such stuff in it," said McClintock. The girl in the forward chair raised herself a little, the better to see the gorgeous blue palanquin of the dimly visible bride. The family always managed to make it home for supper, even though it was a dying custom. He was an imaginative young man.
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