Mr. Oh, you cannot escape from it. He touched her breast as if he was testing the waters of a cold lake. A short way off in the fields he descried a sort of shed or cow-house, and thither he contrived to drag his weary limbs. 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.
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