The door closed upon her, and he moved reluctantly away. ‘I’ll play you at your own game,’ he growled, holding the foreshortened foil in place with rigid control. Ruth's arm trembled and her step faltered, but he was too far away in thought to be observant. Perhaps, as you say, I do not really care—but I cannot do it. “I hope,” said Miss Stanley, with dignity, and turned doorward with features in civil warfare. They took her fingerprints sitting at the gray metal desk of Officer Nolte, the virile young buck who had brought her in.
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