"I'm my own master now, and I'll do as I please. And a custom had grown up of a general tea at four o’clock, under the auspices of a Miss Garvice, a tall and graceful girl of distinguished intellectual incompetence, in whom the hostess instinct seemed to be abnormally developed. A small handgun bobbed at the end of it, aimed at Sheila. "You'll be as good as your word, my charmer," whispered the executioner. Through a blur of tears Ruth followed the rocking light until it vanished.
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