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. The chamber, into which he stole, like all carpenters' workshops, was crowded with the implements and materials of that ancient and honourable art. His mind was filled briefly with psychic images of a charnel house that danced like a spider in his head.
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