"What are you waiting for?" asked Jack, impatiently. ‘Now then, missie. Her gratitude swelled within her. ’ You used to declare that you hated the name. He was yellow and coarse of hair; flea-bitten, too; and even as he smiled at Ruth and wagged his stumpy tail, he was forced to turn savagely upon one of these disturbers who had no sense of the fitness of things. "Ah!" he exclaimed, in a tone of anguish.
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