He put down his hat and umbrella, rested his hands on his hips, and regarded Ann Veronica firmly. If ever the denouement came—if ever the Hand reached him—Ruth would then understand why he had rebuffed all her tender advances. “Please come by. Wood!" "Leave go!" thundered Blueskin—"leave go—you'd better!"—and he held the sack as firmly as he could with one hand, while with the other he searched for his knife.
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