Hope reared. Either we go forth together, or they shall bury me. 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. She was supposed to be lifeless; but she survived the accident, though she never regained her strength. The picture of Mary Remenham was still on the wall. She really must not go to that affair.
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