She looked around her. Marvel, then, took two iron weights, each of a hundred pounds, and placed them in the press. He found himself thinking up all the psychology which he had ever read. How little he knew about Ruth—the background from which she had sprung! He knew that her father was a missioner, that her mother was dead, that she had been born on this island, and that, at the time of his collapse, she had been on the way to an aunt in the States. With a drawn cutlass in one hand and a cocked pistol in the other, Blueskin rushed up stairs. ‘Seems to me, missie, as you’re as dangerous a female as I’m like to see.
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