"My coat!" Ruth did not move but stared astonishedly at the patient. He continued alternately to be tossed in the air, or rolled in the kennel until he was borne out of sight. ‘What in God’s name do you think you’re playing at?’ ‘Let me alone, man,’ Gerald muttered under his breath. “No Christmas dinner,” she said, “or anything nice! One doesn’t even know what you are doing. “What the devil do you mean by coming for me like that?” Ennison exclaimed, glowering down upon him. He refused. ‘Well she does,’ insisted Miss Froxfield impenitently, and turned to Gerald.
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