"The Wastrel seemed to take it all right. “I couldn’t help it. ’ ‘What son?’ asked Roding. She was ashamed of herself for the simple gladness she felt wash over her as the infant’s screams ended. Thus, more and more Ruth turned to the mongrel dog who bore the name of Rollo unflinchingly—the dog that adored her openly, shamelessly, who now without a whimper took his diurnal tubbing.
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