“By Jove!” he said, “there is something direct about you. 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. Poe is all right, if you don't mind nightmares. I snatched it up, pointed it blindly at him, and fired.
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