“Oh, damn!” he said. He measured out the portion of another peg, the bottle wavering in his hand. 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. Her curiosity was insatiable, her dreams filled with happy speculation over what hair color her babies would inherit. Charcoal. " But seeing that no notice was taken of the retort, he drew a little aside, and folded his arms, muttering, "This whim will soon be over.
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