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He was yellow and coarse of hair; flea-bitten, too; and even as he smiled at Ruth and wagged his stumpy tail, he was forced to turn savagely upon one of these disturbers who had no sense of the fitness of things. Come and see him, Lucia. Her father was right: Ruth must never know. If the boy was legging it alone…. “Who tied this scarf here?” he asked, looking up. They said no more for a moment, and each was now acutely aware of the other. I should have thought my note cleared up everything. Sure Mike!" At the hotel he wrote a long letter to his chief, explaining every detail of the fizzle. . You will find proofs of the bloody deed in his room.
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