He read but little, and that chiefly healthy light fiction with chromatic titles, The Red Sword, The Black Helmet, The Purple Robe, also in order “to distract his mind. ‘Ah, there is the little menace itself,’ he drawled, recovering some of his own sangfroid. \" She handed the ticket seller, a boy that looked to be all of eighteen years old, murder money that she had stolen from Dawn Plote's dead son, five dollars. ‘I think that was what began his downfall. He had taken it back. ’ She simpered, and withdrew one hand so that she might smack his fingers playfully. It was at his side below the breast, hidden by the dark colour of his close-fitting jacket. To-day he selected the girl, and gave her the lead-chair. " "You're not deceiving me!" said Thames, doubtfully.
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