At least I can’t talk to them. 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. ‘Hilary is a darling. The taste of his sweat was intoxicating, like sweet brandy, like blood. And now her father said she must not go. “You remind me of the story which they tell against us over here, you know—of the Englishman who refused to be saved from drowning because he was unacquainted with his rescuer. Traps, set with peculiar cunning; she had encountered them everywhere. ’ ‘I do not lie to you now,’ she said, near frantic at the thought of losing him. The recollection of the forlorn and loveless years—stirred into consciousness by the unexpected confrontation—bent her as the high wind bends the water-reed. ‘But the major—’ ‘The major can say nothing at all.
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