" "Not quite," replied the manager. ‘Do you not understand that I can trust no one—no one?’ ‘That is a pity,’ Gerald said, rising to face her. ‘Have you any more pretty toys like that knife about you?’ ‘The girl’s a regular arsenal,’ Hilary snapped, giving up into his senior’s hand the nasty little weapon he had snatched. "Quite sorry, my good friend, there should have been any misunderstanding between us," observed the woollen-draper. " The Wastrel tried to reach Ruth's lips.
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