"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. Her hand grasped it firmly, and she pushed herself forward. She thought of them as fools, but had been sorry to see them go. Gosse were you born, and Gosse will you remain to your death. ’ ‘You mean the one that you refused to feed?’ demanded Gerald, seizing this promising cue and adopting a mournful note.
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