I—I don’t understand,” the man faltered wearily. She forced herself not to think of John. She flared her upper lip, baring her canines which had extended by half an inch. You’d think he wanted to meet the wretch again. He wanted to put on his overcoat and come after you and look for you—in London. A faint, delightfully humorous smile parted her lips. He continued alternately to be tossed in the air, or rolled in the kennel until he was borne out of sight.
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