The dog was, in a sense, a gift of the gods. Ruth flashed in and out of the sunshine; and he took note of the radiant nimbus above her head each time the sunshine touched her hair. It came again. On a sudden, a change came over her countenance, which, up to this moment, had worn a smiling and satisfied expression. Always as black and bitter as gall. ‘Do you need an excuse?’ ‘Oh, you know what doctors are. “He wants me to have dinner at his parent’s house tonight,” still looking at a series of spots on the carpeting.
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