‘And you know, my dear, I do think you must make up your mind to beard this wretched grandfather of yours. It was well for him that he had taken his place by Sheppard, as regard for the latter alone prevented the deadliest missiles being hurled at him. 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 was pretty successful in Manchester,—a town which may be said to have been the head-quarters of the disaffected. “Why? Do you think I’m a stoner?” He asked. Oh the back of her arm she found the faintest down of hair in the world.
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