" "You don't inquire what brings Sir James Thornhill here?" said Austin. Pah!’ She flounced about and, crossing to the bed, plonked down on it, pointedly averting her face and resting the large pistol in her lap. It was not a cambric curtain Ruth had drawn across that part of her life: it was of iron. ’ A strangled sob escaped her as his thumb dug cruelly into the soft flesh of her wrist. His face turned a dark crimson.
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