Jack Kimble stiffened, looking at his interrogator with wary anger in his face. “I am one who controls most of the Church, dear. Perhaps what I need is something to bite in. To a woman she might have confided; but to this man, kindly as he was, it was unthinkable. 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. “Okay, I guess.
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