But it is that I have a very bad temper, you understand. Fifteen from forty is twenty-five. "And someday let him care for me!" She sprang up, alarmed. No! That was impossible. And there was another matter. 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. “Now, Veronica,” he pleaded, “Veronica, this is most unreasonable.
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