“Want to see my fangs?” She asked. E. “I won’t have you quarrelling and crying in the Avenue,” he said. CHAPTER X. He was twenty-nine at the time, practically an old man. He had put himself before the threshold of damnation; for Ruth was now a vestal in the temple. It was debauching, this—a devilish art which drew such strange allurements from a face and figure almost Madonna-like in their simplicity.
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