It clicked and the bookshelf was once more intact. All her tender lures, inherent and acquired, had shattered themselves futilely against the reserve he had set between them. "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. Kind of knows it, too. "It was some time before I could get him to move. I was to blame to carry the matter so far.
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