Once she reached the bamboo curtain, clutched at it and tore it down as his arms went around her waist. Courtlaw. 112 Sheila needed an early riser: a girl around the house to help cook and clean and walk the dog. It was still too dark for reading, but she could see well enough to note the number of the last page—fifty-six. It had been easy to steal. Let the law put its hand on his shoulder—if it could! But at present he was at liberty, and he purposed to remain in that state. If only there had not been this single torturing thought—a mere pin-prick, but still curiously persistent.
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