” He took out his watch. "No, no," rejoined Thames; "fly—or I will not answer for your safety. 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. His job as a painter was wearing him down acutely as he aged. The period of repression was over. With this view, he descended the hill and presently found a footpath leading to the church.
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