All I can say is, it's well meant; and I may add, I'd have made it five minutes ago, if you'd given me the opportunity. 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 will not help them—and I told Emile so—and thus he sends them to my other grandpére, even that he knows he is dead. You know they say, as, indeed, I have just quoted already, that all bad poetry is written in a state of emotion, but I have no doubt that this is true of bad offers of marriage. The sun was setting in spectacular multicolored streams beyond Whitefield Park.
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