" "But I've got to go!" insisted Rollo, in perfectly understandable dog-talk. The Times slipped from his fingers. . " There was a momentary and terrible silence, broken only by a few feeble groans. 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.
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