Members of the crowd looked over their shoulders and stared at her through the smoky haze. “Stupid cow. Trust you. ‘I’ll play you at your own game,’ he growled, holding the foreshortened foil in place with rigid control. He tore it down just as the Wastrel rose, wavering slightly. Henceforth Ruth would closely observe her fellow women and note the hang of their skirts. ‘And if not her, for she is dead, then me. You represent to me an enigma, the solution of which has become the one desire of my life.
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