She had paid her bill, and she had enough left in her purse to pay many such. He knew that at this moment Ruth lay upon her bed in torment, for she was by nature tender; and the reaction of her scathing words, no matter how justifiable, would be putting scars on her soul. ‘Hilary, thank God! Have you a pistol about you? Or better yet, your sword. A handy knife, and a good tot of something sharp to clean out the wound. That was how she projected it, and in general terms it seemed plausible and possible.
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