But not finding it, he had again recourse to the bludgeon, and began beating the hand fixed on the upper rail, until, by smashing the fingers, he forced it to relinquish its hold. K-kimble, sir,’ stammered the lad. All the sombre visions she had been pressing back, fighting out of her thoughts, swarmed over the barrier and crushed her. Something in her tone made him look up. "But I'm a blackguard, too, Ruth. That really settles about that.
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