” It was her last evening in that wrappered life against which she had rebelled. 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. Immediately a feathered hat emerged, under which a familiar countenance was visible. She felt his crotch through his jeans. “It is from his brother in Paris.
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