She was alone, and the mask of her unchanging high spirits was for the moment laid aside. Manning,” she said, “I warned you not to idealize 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. He murmured his delight, and joined the bridge party, where he played with less than his accustomed skill.
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