” The conversation hung for a moment. " "So do I," replied Ruth. McClintock, striking a match to relight his cigar, broke the spell. At least I can’t talk to them. He reached out a hand gropingly, sagged, and toppled out of the chair to the floor, where he lay very still. "When is he to suffer?" she demanded, fixing her large black eyes, which burnt with an insane gleam, upon him.
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