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MacGrath, Harold, 1871-1932

"Half a Rogue"

Jove leaped upon him gladly. Warrington held the
dog's head in his hands and gazed into the brown eyes. Here was one
that loved him, wholly and without question. You will always find some
good in the man who retains the affection of his dog. In good times or
bad, they are stanch friends; and they are without self-interest,
which is more than human. In the living-room he found the Angora
curled up on a sofa-cushion. He smoothed her, and she stretched her
lithe body luxuriously and yawned. There is no other animal which so
completely interprets the word indifference. Warrington wondered what
he should do with her, for he was not very fond of cats. But his aunt
had loved her, so he passed on to the dining-room without deciding
what to do.
It was a lonely supper. He kept his eyes on his plate as well as he
could; for whenever he saw the back of her chair, his food choked him.
He wondered why he did not take the decanter of whisky down from the
sideboard; a generous tumblerful. ... No. This was the first time in
months that the desire to drink deeply came to him. No; he would leave
it there.


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