He glanced at Ruth (who had stood with her back to the wall, pinned there throughout the contest by terror and the knowledge of her own helplessness), then at the bronze menace, and calculated correctly that this particular adventure was finished. It was a gorgeous May evening, the air redolent with the soapy purple scents of hyacinth and lilac. " "He'll have hard work to do it by that time, father," remonstrated Thames; "you'd better let me help him.
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