He held her eyes. A small handgun bobbed at the end of it, aimed at Sheila. And for many years, that was the way it was. His eyes glowed beneath the glasses and his blue buttondown shirt was reflected in the lenses. She had never been "My child" or "My dear"; always her name—Ruth. Everything seemed designed to unhinge the mind and make the cat wretched. Ruth was inflammable; she would always be flaring up swiftly, in pity, in tenderness, in anger; she would always be answering impulses, without seeking to weigh or to analyse them. ” He said, his voice tinged with worry. In a sense I don’t care. " "Be handy, then," rejoined Terence, "or, I'll lose my share of the smart money. His struggles were so violent, that, being a man of tremendous strength, it was some time before they could master him, and it required the combined efforts of all the four partners to put him into irons.
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