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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. ‘And you know, my dear, I do think you must make up your mind to beard this wretched grandfather of yours. ‘Now then, Gerald, out with it. No! I do not even know that he cares for me. “Will they worry about you getting caught in a storm?” She asked him as she viewed black clouds floating in different directions.
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