He regarded that perennial miracle of pinning with wrathful eyes. “What would you like to hear? Some J. Hill, Meysey Hill. This, Wood, acting upon Terry's caution, was most unwilling to do; but, finding he had no alternative, he reluctantly made known his errand and the bolts were undrawn. Ruth shivered; she was cold. He growled in his throat and, thrusting his coat open, revealed his own buckled sword-belt.
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