In the heart of the jungle the dog had his private muck baths. This employment seemed to afford him the highest satisfaction; for a diabolical grin—it cannot be called a smile—played upon his face all the time he was engaged in it. “Damn”. At the same time,” she added, in a suddenly altered tone, “it isn’t anything whatever to do with you, is it?” “Why not?” he answered. There were perches inside where she could crouch and labyrinths underneath where she could hide.
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