. \" He took his milk and cookies to bed. ” “I care as a man cares only once in his life,” he answered promptly. "Oh, Rollo, there are so many things I don't know! But you love me, don't you?" Rollo wagged his stump violently and tried to lick her face. She had been built for canvas and oil-lamps, and this new thingumajig that kept her nose snoring at eight knots when normally she was able to boil along at ten, and these unblinking things they called lamps (that neither smoked nor smelled), irked and threatened to ruin her temper. No! I do not even know that he cares for me. “I have waited for this,” he said, and stood quite still, looking at her until the silence became oppressive. “Thanks to you. Either we go forth together, or they shall bury me.
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