He embraced her like her father once had. 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. “Please let me drive you home. Only sat, staring at him, a puzzled look in her face. She was, she guessed, close to the library. He moaned. But be very careful not to let him know. She was not squeamish—although the sight of the sergeant’s ominous preparations had severely tried her fortitude—but Kimble’s white face plagued her conscience. It was at the top of the building, and looked clear over a clustering mass of inferior buildings toward Regent’s Park.
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