"Curse him!" muttered Abraham. In a tall glass the rind of a Syrian orange was arranged in spiral form. The prostitute’s attack was predictable, typical. She looked about, watching a massive green storm cloud building in the west. After all, why should I care what strangers think?" Ruth asked with sudden heat. The room behind was another small antechamber, presumably linking the back rooms. "I am too much honoured—too happy in the union.
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