"Where did you learn the song I heard just now?" he demanded, in an authoritative tone. Sheppard, horror-stricken. 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. “It’s no sort of good, Ann Veronica, pretending one does believe when one doesn’t. Lucy cringed, her eyes widening. "Take him to the bilbowes. Good-bye.
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