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The taste of his sweat was intoxicating, like sweet brandy, like blood. Her head dipped deeply into the current, and she narrowly escaped being swamped. " "No, Sir Rowland. 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. Be warned by your father's fate.
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