By P.G. Wodehouse

was standing there, looking down at me, and by his side the man who had just said I was ugly enough. The man was a thin man, about the age of a barman and smaller than a policeman. He had patched brown shoes and black trousers. 'But he's got a sweet nature,' said master. This was true, luckily for me. Mother always said, 'A dog without ................
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