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. After all—’ ‘Yes, but I do not wish to see him,’ Melusine protested. You must forgive the poet’s license I take. You don't realize what you have done.
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