" Ruth turned back toward the stairs. His hand went to his pocket and extracted a neat silver-mounted pistol. Don’t you think that the shade of my hair is lovely?” “There is nothing particular the matter with the shade,” Anna answered, “but it is not nearly so becoming as before you touched it. ‘I’m a soldier, missie. What about them?” He called a hansom. She obeyed, extending her arm. He talked about his driver's license, how he would soon inherit his older brother's BMW.
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