" He offered cigars, and Ruth got up. His gray eyes were closed, his persimmon-colored lips open and panting. She read voraciously, and presently, because of her aunt’s censorship, she took to smuggling any books she thought might be prohibited instead of bringing them home openly, and she went to the theatre whenever she could produce an acceptable friend to accompany her. “Better state of mind,” she gasped. We were to ransom you, then we would fake your death, play as if the kidnappers had executed you. "Flight is still left me," replied Trenchard. “My word holds,” she said.
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