"It would avail him little if he did," replied Kneebone. The smell of gunpowder was strong in the room. Even the teachers were getting restless, the seniors gnawing hard at the bit as graduation teased. It engulfed them in black, white, and gray. “I should make sure that he doesn’t try to drive himself home. I think not, Annabel. Kneebone," observed Shotbolt, as he emptied his tenth tumbler; "I'm sure he's meditating an escape, and hopes to accomplish it to-night. " Ruth's eyes began to glow.
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