As she looked in this direction, the thief-taker raised his eyes—those gray, blood-thirsty eyes!—their glare froze the life-blood in her veins. You can trust me, Anna. His hands came up, his face broke apart. All his interest in Ruth, all his care and solicitude, could now be translated into a single word—love. She laughed. ” She replied vaguely. And there arose too, a background of shouts. "What poet was that?" "Stevenson. "That's tremendous!" he cried.
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