Ruth Tolliver did not cry out, but every muscle in her face and body seemed to contract, as if she were preparing herself for the explosion.
"You don't have to put up your hands," said Ronicky Doone, wondering at the familiarity of the face of the man of the sneer.

He had brooded on it so often in the past few days that it was like the face of an old acquaintance.

He knew every line in that sharp profile.
"Thank you," responded the leader, and, turning to the girl, he said coldly: "I congratulate you on your good taste.

A regular Apollo, my dear Ruth." He turned back to Ronicky Doone.

"And I suppose you have overhead our entire conversation ?" "The whole lot of it," said Ronicky, "though I wasn't playing my hand at eavesdropping.