“It is not that. "Ruth?" Silence for a moment. The struggle had dislodged the white wimple, which was evidently too large for her, and her black hair broke free, whirling like a whiplash about her head as her hands curled into fists, coming up to beat at his chest, her little teeth bared for attack. To begin with, he struck her as being the most variable person she had ever encountered. “I wonder,” she murmured to herself, “if this is the beginning. ‘And I have a very good mind to kill you. ‘Parbleu, I hope that I do not have many more times to come in this way to the house,’ she muttered fretfully. White leaned forward in her chair with an anxious smile designed to throw oil upon the troubled waters. “You mustn’t say anything more to your mother, Michelle. You never can tell. Jack may be capable of much that is wicked, but he would never lift his hand against his friend,—of that I am assured.
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