The sing-song girl rose and meekly pattered out of the office into the night. " Still his brain refused to assimilate the news or to deduce the tremendous importance of it. Her skin prickled. ’ The dagger was in her hand. The sound of their strident voices floated upwards, the high nasal note of the predominant Americans, the shrill laughter of girls quick to appreciate the wit of such of their male companions as thought it worth while to be amusing. He had pictured her, if indeed she had ever had the courage to do this thing, as sitting alone, convulsed with guilty fear, starting at her own shadow, a slave to constant terror.
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