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. Ah!" he exclaimed, as his eye fell upon a small knob in the wall, "there's the spring!" He touched it, and the door flew open. Then suddenly with a rush came reality, came “growing up”; a hasty imperative appeal for seriousness, for supreme seriousness. “Dear me! I wonder where Sir John picked her up. A mutual recognition took place at the same instant between the stranger and this individual.
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