Not the explosive vigour of the north-born, but that which would quietly meet physical hardships and bear them triumphantly. “Excellent fellow!” he answered a little irrelevantly. "Red apples and snow!" he repeated. "Oh, Rollo, there are so many things I don't know! But you love me, don't you?" Rollo wagged his stump violently and tried to lick her face. “I am going,” she said grimly, with three hairpins in her mouth.
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