“Home, of course,” she answered. “I should imagine,” he said, shaking out a copy of The Times, “that it is your brain which is addled. "Jack!" she cried, raising her head. Old Bedlam 291 IX. 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.
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