I'm sorry. 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. Or appeared to do so. If you can’t see as how there ain’t nothing in this barrack of a place to help me do the job, I can. I could tell it was Italian, you see.
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