Her depression since the “accident” had possessed her, she no longer cared how she looked as her beauty helped her not. ’ A trifle discomposed at being caught examining his surroundings, Gerald was provoked into retort. " "Ah. Ain't he, Madam?'" "He is, indeed," replied the widow, fervently; "more—much more than that. Put out your hand and bid me God-speed. She found herself mildly entertained by staring at the houses through the rain as she walked home, all cast in a gray blurry film noir gauze of rain. From then on he was Ruth's dog.
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