She moaned, having failed in her mission to find her mother and her God. In the distance a barrel-organ was grinding out a pot pourri of popular airs. She peered into the darkness. What had urged her to wrench loose and fly was the guarding instinct of the good woman. “Don’t be childish, Annabel. From thoughts of fame to thoughts of mere bread and butter! It seemed to Spurlock that he had tumbled off the edge of Somewhere into the abyss of Nowhere. . Not fit to be dust on your boots. But this only incensed the assailing party the more. There was a look in her eyes which puzzled him.
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