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. " He laughed and pushed back his chair. “Of course!” he said. “Accident! She shot me,” he muttered. Remember what the conjuror said. We shall never have an heir, you and I! My family is crumbling; all of my brothers are dead. I am dreadfully sad.
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