"If you touch me I will kill you," said Ruth, grasping the scissors which lay beside the pencils—Hoddy's! The Wastrel laughed, still advancing. In the pause she realized the attention of the others converged upon her, and that the tears were brimming over her eyes. You don’t know what you ask nor what you say. White leaned forward in her chair with an anxious smile designed to throw oil upon the troubled waters. His tone was kind and sympathetic. He sat with folded arms and knitted brows, thinking intently. A fresh cool breeze blew in their faces.
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