For a moment she thought of saying yes, and then filled with shame. He talked in the same style, and pretty nearly in the same language; laughed in the same manner, and coughed, or sneezed at the same time. 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. In the afternoon she had considered certain doubts very carefully, and decided on a more emphatic course of action. "'T is he!" he mentally ejaculated. The expression pervading the countenance of the one was vulgarity; of the other, that which is rarely found, except in persons of high birth. You did not say a word about it last week, nor have you written. She read for half an hour, then closed the book because Spurlock appeared to have fallen asleep.
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