His throat filled; he wanted to weep. Only sat, staring at him, a puzzled look in her face. Thus, more and more Ruth turned to the mongrel dog who bore the name of Rollo unflinchingly—the dog that adored her openly, shamelessly, who now without a whimper took his diurnal tubbing. All four people moved a little nervously into the drawing-room, maintaining a sort of fluttered amiability of sound and movement. ‘It’s a pretty name. It was her job to keep the house as neat as a pin, up to the high standard that Sheila expected, being a nurse. It was horrible.
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