There's nothing on the card to indicate it, but I'm a detective. He stood upon the threshold, dangling his eye-glasses in his fingers, stolid, imperturbable, mildly interrogative. “Yes. So long as he lived, Spurlock knew that in fancy he would be reconstructing that scene between himself and Ruth's father. "I've said it," rejoined Jonathan, peremptorily. She read the policeman’s rueful glance when she caught his refection in his rearview mirror. He was not addicted to monologue, and the only audible comment he permitted himself at first upon a universe that was evidently anything but satisfactory to him that afternoon, was one compact and entirely unassigned “Damn!” The word must have had some gratifying quality, because he repeated it. "Oh! nothin' partickler—mere curossity," replied Terence. She silently willed him to stop his pacing, to calm down.
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