‘But do you think I can blame you for this, Marthe?’ ‘I blame myself. ’ She tossed her head. “That’s all. G. 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. “I do wish you and your father could come to some agreement.
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