They proved all sorts of things perhaps, but they were thick, unequal, pitiful pieces of work. Then her fingers moved. Then she stood up and looked around the room. “Tiffany’s?” He looked at her comically. He put his free arm around her and held the censer ready; and as Ruth snuggled her cheek against his sleeve, they were, so far as intent, in each other's arms. It hung from the centre of a stout pole, each end of which rested upon the calloused shoulder of a coolie; an ordinary Occidental chair with a foot-rest. She crooked her finger. Montressor’s guests.
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