"If you touch me I will kill you," said Ruth, grasping the scissors which lay beside the pencils—Hoddy's! The Wastrel laughed, still advancing. ‘You ought to be glad someone cares enough about your wretched little neck to try and save it. You see, I—I am a woman worshipper. But I must summon my janizaries. Amidst it all, however, there were several light-hearted and laughing groups walking from cell to cell to whom all this misery appeared matter of amusement. Both carried packages of books and magazines.
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