“I repeat, gentlemen,” he said, in an ominously low tone, “what of it?” Drummond shrugged his shoulders. He inspected the formidable array of rifles and at length walked over to the register. “Let us escape,” she said. He was yellow and coarse of hair; flea-bitten, too; and even as he smiled at Ruth and wagged his stumpy tail, he was forced to turn savagely upon one of these disturbers who had no sense of the fitness of things. It was free of leering men, unthinkable punishments, and human evil.
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