" "More blood! more blood!" cried Trenchard, passing his hand with agony across his brow. CHAPTER XXIII Next morning Ruth did not refer to the episode on the sands of the lagoon. The music took hold of her slowly as her eyes wandered from the indistinct still ranks of the audience to the little busy orchestra with its quivering violins, its methodical movements of brown and silver instruments, its brightly lit scores and shaded lights.
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