There was no one else in the doorway. He uttered one word over and over, monotonously: "Fool! … Fool!" But invariably the touch of Ruth's hand quieted him, and his head would cease to roll from side to side. Yes, yes, you do not like the French, and so this English lady here, she is altogether your flesh. 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. By the time he had reached St. ‘Don’t want it to break out bleeding again. Never had he been so intrigued. .
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