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. “Wonderful man!” said Ann Veronica, reassured, and stroking his cheek with her finger. At the end of two long lines of foot-guards stood the cart with a powerful black horse harnessed to it. There isn’t a husband breathing, Annabel, who wouldn’t have blessed that pistol in your hands, and prayed God that the bullet might go straight. He continued thoughtfully. If you don’t like it, I won’t be mad, I promise.
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