I’m making a mess of my life— unless you come in and take it. 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. Mr. “Of course!” he said. His quiet, kindly smile implied his serene disbelief in any confessible thing. 144 I think he heard about the backpack and the spitballs finally. “I wonder would you mind seeing who it is. \" She cooed into his ear, stroking his chest hair. At the back of the house, on a bank, rose an old-fashioned terrace-garden, full of apple-trees and other fruittrees in blossom, and lively with the delicious verdure of early spring.
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