She was conscious the whole conversation of Michelle, trying to divine what the girl was planning to do. It was better even than the hymn-singing. He gave glimpses of possibilities. It was a spring-tide at half ebb; and the current, which was running fast and furiously, bore him instantly away. “You asked me in to tea,” he protested. At first she thought he was endeavouring to rid himself of the fleas, but after a time she came to understand that the muck had healing qualities and soothed the burning scratches made by his claws.
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