"This gash," he added, pointing to one of the larger scars, "was a wipe from the hanger of Tom Thurland, whom I apprehended for the murder of Mrs. The bridge was open. The face of the man who lay there was clearly visible. No, no! Not now!" Ruth turned abruptly and walked toward the bungalow, mounted the veranda steps, and vanished within. But "fine" is the word.
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