His face was that of a quick, intelligent-looking boy, with fine hazel eyes, and a clear olive complexion. Well, I'll take myself off. He glanced at Ruth (who had stood with her back to the wall, pinned there throughout the contest by terror and the knowledge of her own helplessness), then at the bronze menace, and calculated correctly that this particular adventure was finished. “Of course I’m manager for this expedition,” he said, after an interval of self-examination. "Help!—help, Mr.
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