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. The coffin was lowered into the grave, and the mourners departed. I’ll have to wait here, of course, which means you, Hilary—’ ‘Will have to do tomorrow’s patrol.
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