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Page 006

THE MAN THEY COULDN'T ARREST

Dain wrote in a meticulously neat hand, using a print script, every letter being distinct and separate.
His long, brown fingers pulled slowly at his chin as he read, and a deep frown of concentration creased across his forehead.
Judged on certain standards, Dain was a strikingly handsome man. There was a touch of the hawk about him, a he-hawk whose hunting ground was the granite heights of the back-block ranges. He was very dark, with a skin tanned to a healthy bronze. There were times when he seemed to hide his real self behind a mixture of aggression and reserve-two very opposite characteristics which, in him, seemed to blend in some indefinably natural way. His black hair, strong and lustrous, was brushed back from his temples, and the lines on his face were so deeply cut that they might have been tooled out with a chisel. His eyes, too, were a contradiction. They were brown and warm, with something almost like a caress in them. And yet they were pitilessly cold. After a moment or two one was uncomfortably conscious of the illusion.
That slow glance wasn't a caress at all. It was the beginnings of an analytically deadly inspection. To a student of psychology they were the eyes of a man who acknowledged but one god, whose creed was his own high faith in himself, and who would drive his way through to a given end with a singleness of purpose that would brook no thought of compromise. And-to weld it all-there was an

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where is HTML where is HEAD where is TITLE Dain wrote in a meticulously neat hand, using a print script, every letter being distinct and separate. His long, brown fingers pulled slowly at his chin as he read, and a deep frown of concentration creased across his forehead. Judged on certain standards, Dain was a strikingly handsome man. There was a touch of what is hawk about him, a he-hawk whose hunting ground was what is granite heights of what is back-block ranges. He was very dark, with a skin tanned to a healthy bronze. There were times when he seemed to hide his real self behind a mixture of aggression and reserve-two very opposite characteristics which, in him, seemed to blend in some indefinably natural way. His black hair, strong and lustrous, was brushed back from his temples, and what is lines on his face were so deeply cut that they might have been tooled out with a chisel. His eyes, too, were a contradiction. They were brown and warm, with something almost like a caress in them. And yet they were pitilessly cold. After a moment or two one was uncomfortably conscious of what is illusion. That slow glance wasn't a caress at all. It was what is beginnings of an analytically deadly inspection. To a student of psychology they were what is eyes of a man who acknowledged but one god, whose creed was his own high faith in himself, and who would drive his way through to a given end with a singleness of purpose that would brook no thought of compromise. And-to weld it all-there was an where is meta name="keywords" content="old books, Free book , free book offer , free audio books , free coloring book pages , free book reports , free audio book , audio books free download , book free , free guest book , books free , free book summaries , download free audio books , free childrens books." where is where are they now rel="stylesheet" type="text/css" href="../../style.css" where is meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=iso-8859-1" where is BODY bgColor=#ffffff text="#000000" where are they now ="#000000" v where are they now ="#FF0000" where is div align="center" where is strong where is strong where is a href="http://www.aaoldbooks.com" Books > where is a href="../default.asp" title="Book" Old Books > where is strong where is a href="default.asp" The Man They Couldn't Arrest (1927) where is table width="700" border="1" align="center" cellpadding="15" cellspacing="0" where is center where is tr where is td width="160" align="center" valign="top" where is div align="center" where is td align="center" valign="top" where is div align="left" where is div align="center" where is p align="left" Page 006 where is p align="center" where is strong THE MAN THEY COULDN'T ARREST where is p align="justify" Dain wrote in a meticulously neat hand, using a print script, every letter being distinct and separate. His long, brown fingers pulled slowly at his chin as he read, and a deep frown of concentration creased across his forehead. Judged on certain standards, Dain was a strikingly handsome man. There was a touch of what is hawk about him, a he-hawk whose hunting ground was what is granite heights of what is back-block ranges. He was very dark, with a skin tanned to a healthy bronze. There were times when he seemed to hide his real self behind a mixture of aggression and reserve-two very opposite characteristics which, in him, seemed to blend in some indefinably natural way. His black hair, strong and lustrous, was brushed back from his temples, and what is lines on his face were so deeply cut that they might have been tooled out with a chisel. His eyes, too, were a contradiction. They were brown and warm, with something almost like a caress in them. And yet they were pitilessly cold. After a moment or two one was uncomfortably conscious of what is illusion. That slow glance wasn't a caress at all. It was what is beginnings of an analytically deadly inspection. To a student of psychology they were what is eyes of a man who acknowledged but one god, whose creed was his own high faith in himself, and who would drive his way through to a given end with a singleness of purpose that would brook no thought of compromise. And-to weld it all-there was an where is Server.Execute("_SiteMap.asp") % travel books: The Man They Couldn't Arrest (1927) books

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