Spurlock was fond of dogs; he was fond of this offspring of many mesalliances; but he never made any attempt to win Rollo, to share him. Time was moving so fast, she could no longer count the days since Gosse had come to her with his preposterous suggestion at the Coq d’Or, where they were staying and where he had robbed her and left her and Martha to their fate. That he was immolating Ruth on the altar of his conscience never broke in upon his thought for consideration. “—and your aunt—” For a time he searched for the mot juste. We all have to kow-tow to that. Every girl in the world practically, except a few of us who teach or type-write, and then we’re underpaid and sweated—it’s dreadful to think how we are sweated!” She had lost her generalization, whatever it was. . They smelled good, but they no longer smelled like food.
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