I hear her coming. ‘What did you do with the portrait then? Not that I suppose it is much use any longer. We shall be torn in pieces if we are discovered. 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. He knocked his pipe on the teak rail.
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