’ He sat up. Thus, more and more Ruth turned to the mongrel dog who bore the name of Rollo unflinchingly—the dog that adored her openly, shamelessly, who now without a whimper took his diurnal tubbing. “I can’t conceive what you want. And then you go—and half throttle me. It was an odd little encounter, that left vague and dubitable impressions in her mind.
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