He was shifting to reach his own weapon, which had fallen in between the pews at the back. "Clean and spotless, but beginning to show the wear and tear of constant use. She doubted how she stood toward him and what the restrained gleam of his face might signify. 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. ” “That’s the comfort of you.
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