In a tall glass the rind of a Syrian orange was arranged in spiral form. Instead her point disengaged, dropped, and then the sword came up again and banged, flatbladed, onto Gosse’s wrist with such force that his own blade dropped from his grasp. "Good-bye!" For a moment Ruth was tempted to fling herself against the withered bosom; but long since she had learned repression. No means were neglected to accomplish this end.
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