" "I declare I don't know what to do," said Wood, burned by conflicting emotions. 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. A man’s children nowadays are not his own. Wood scarcely knew where he was. “This is the slavery of the veiled life. Why should they be? She and Ramage were friends, very good friends. “I cannot conceive,” he said, “how any other occupation could ever have occurred to you. They are for serving me.
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