Before Jonathan followed he turned to face his assailants. His pipe hung dead in his teeth, but the smoke was dense about him. After all, his was a pleasant face, and a pleasant voice, and very likely Annabel had behaved badly. She was as fair as the lily of the lotus. 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.
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