Hill was seated. As she came close, he took a pace forward and seized her from behind, one strong arm clamping her tight against his chest, the free hand seizing her about the mouth, stifling the cry that gurgled in her throat. He was yellow and coarse of hair; flea-bitten, too; and even as he smiled at Ruth and wagged his stumpy tail, he was forced to turn savagely upon one of these disturbers who had no sense of the fitness of things. Ashen blonde, a shade that would never excite the cynical commentary which men applied to certain types of blondes. There's a man dying—Captain Darrell. She brought her hands up to her head and ripped out two long chunks of her hair, pulling out shreds of scalp.
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