She became eager to explain herself, to show herself in the right light. He was yellow and coarse of hair; flea-bitten, too; and even as he smiled at Ruth and wagged his stumpy tail, he was forced to turn savagely upon one of these disturbers who had no sense of the fitness of things. To her mind, recalling the picture of him the night before, there had been something tragic in the grim silent manner of his tippling. “What is the good of talking?” said her brother. “They have just taken this house from Lady Cellender.
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