"If you touch me I will kill you," said Ruth, grasping the scissors which lay beside the pencils—Hoddy's! The Wastrel laughed, still advancing. Ennison stood still for a moment, swinging his latchkey upon his finger. He is extremely old—forty at least—and he has a belly excessively fat. It’s all very fine and all that, Vee, this freedom, but it isn’t going to work.
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