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. "Then take her back," said the manager. " "And I'm glad your worship's recognition doesn't come too late," observed the Master. ‘Forgive this intrusion, ma’am, I beg. " "Sir Rowland is my brother," resumed Lady Trafford coldly.
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