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. “I have not left this apartment myself. Where can we sit down and talk?” He led her across the room towards a window recess, in which a tall, fair young man was seated with an evening paper in his hand. “Monsieur admires the poster?” As a rule Sir John treated such advances with cold silence. " "That fiend is ever in my path," exclaimed Mrs. C. “Too greasy for me.
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