" And seizing her by the hair, he pulled back her head, and drew the knife with all his force across her throat. ‘Ain’t my place, I know that. You simply can't get good oil down there, so I must husband the few drams I carry. To have written a short story in a week was rather a remarkable feat. Ruth could not be told now. By and by—as the paroxysm subsided and he became motionless—she stole back to the bungalow to wait. She is known everywhere within the radius of five hundred miles. She was watching him intently. McClintock watched her interestedly until her golden head vanished below; then, with tolerant pity, he looked down at Spurlock, who had closed his eyes.
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