Of course. “I wanted to go to an art-student ball of which he disapproved. No, no! Not now!" Ruth turned abruptly and walked toward the bungalow, mounted the veranda steps, and vanished within. The stench was cheese-like and unbearable and Lucy dry-heaved. There was granite in her face and agate in her eyes. He drew both his pistols, and prepared for a desperate encounter.
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