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. Fortescue in the drawing-room, and actually shake hands with him in an entirely hopeless manner and hope everything would turn out for the best. The man looked hard at him. " The doctor ran his fingers through his hair, despairingly. . She wished that the drive would never end, but it was only three miles after all.
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