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. . ’ He turned to the lodgekeeper behind him, whose shocked fear had given place to a direful frown. “For better or worse. “I want to be your friend,” he said. A black-garbed young lad leapt out and let down the steps. Lucy knocked again. ” “How delightful!” exclaimed Anna. Marvel," remarked Shotbolt. "Leave me, Sir; I insist. She's plenty clean below.
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