The lips of the mask twisted upward into a smile. “My dear man,” she exclaimed, “wasn’t that a foregone conclusion?” “You treat the matter lightly,” he continued. He was yellow and coarse of hair; flea-bitten, too; and even as he smiled at Ruth and wagged his stumpy tail, he was forced to turn savagely upon one of these disturbers who had no sense of the fitness of things. (What was the name he had given her that day?) He was walking beside the chair upon which appeared to be a bundle of colours. And I am grateful to you.
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