Come along home, Ruth. Chapter VI A QUESTION OF IDENTIFICATION The little man with the closely-cropped beard and hair looked at her keenly through his gold eye-glasses. ‘What in God’s name do you think you’re playing at?’ ‘Let me alone, man,’ Gerald muttered under his breath. Except he was the only idiot who would stay. “You must pack for me. And he who opposes me in it shall feel the weight of my hand.
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