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. "We're merely about to discharge our duty by apprehending a rebel. His curiosity, his literary instincts, had been submerged by the recurring thought of the fool he had made of himself. “Don’t you know?” “Oh! I know—” “Well—” Her face was an unaccustomed pink. Wasn’t easy, I can tell you. I know you’re young but I think I, no, I know that I love you. Almost the last female to bear the name, too,’ muttered the old lady. Manning came into her thoughts again, an unexpected, tall, dark, self-contained presence at the Fadden.
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