” He made a step toward her. " "Are you man, or fiend?" exclaimed Trenchard, staring at the stranger, as he concluded his narration. Fritz flailed against his mother wildly, crying generous tears. He saw what he had done only as it related to Ruth. She had in her suitcase a small scrapbook, only a few pages, what little information she had gathered on him through the years. The folds of a thick muslin neckcloth in some degree protected him, but the gash was desperate.
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