‘Will you—what was it?—“blow off his head”?’ Melusine eyed her, a little uncertain. ’ He made a pretence of rising and making a sortie to the corner to see if anyone was there. But as the mystery which surrounded Ruth fell away that which enveloped her father thickened. The future was not so black. “I wonder,” she said, “why one writes him sentences like that? It’ll have to go,” she decided, “I’ve written too many already.
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