Ruth wore a printed cotton kimono. ‘Do you think because you’ve managed to pull a gun on me—not to mention several daggers and a vicious little knife— that you can get away with it against a man who means business?’ ‘Do you think that the trigger I would not have pulled, or stuck the dagger into you, if you had not been as you are?’ she countered. It had thrust her back with an undignified scuffle, with vulgar comedy, with an unendurable, scornful grin. You were wide the mark, physically; otherwise you had him pat. "I never told anybody," she went on. Why? Love was a word of God's, and yet her father had denied it—denied it to the Book, denied it to his own flesh and blood. “Poor little Miniver! What can she be but what she is?.
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