While he was swinging in mid air, Thames regarded his uncle with a stern look, and cried in a menacing voice, "We shall meet again. I was in hopes you'd be content with my hat and wig. But when Ruth's hand fell gently upon his bony head, he knew that no one in this house would ever offer him a kick. Lives by his wits and gambling. \"Carry your books for you?\" He asked. “Perhaps that is only sleeping,” he said. ‘No sense in snooping about down here,’ Gerald whispered.
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