" "Well said, Jack," cried Figg. His interest was divided: while his ears drank in the sounds, his glance constantly roved from Ruth to the performer and back to Ruth. "You didn't spend it?" "I never intended to spend it—any more than I really intended to steal it. The lines about his mouth gradually softened. You really ought not to stay here and talk to us. No hair to fall awry, no powder to displace, no ruffles to crush; men are lucky.
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