He had a narrow escape, however; for, passing within an inch of him, the bullet burried itself deeply in the wall. Ruth stared into the painted face, now sundrily cracked by the coursing tears. Looking for something, or someone, probably. I can bear anything but suspense. "Where is he, then?" demanded the other, hastily. Restlessness, then, was the trouble, simple restlessness: home bored her. She brought the cups of cocoa back to the bedroom.
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