Can’t face a scandal. To escape one phase of loneliness she had plunged into another, so vast that her courage sometimes faltered. Indeed, it seemed inevitable that she must clear it up with his assistance, or not at all. 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. “How do you know—why do you think that my name is Anna?” He smiled in a quietly superior way.
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