"My milk-white skin," he said, "has been defaced. My beautiful trunk has been lacerated as with jagged nails. You know, I tremble for that dog's soul. It mayn't be his fault, but it's invariably my misfortune." He turned to my sister. "You heard about Walter Thomas? Good. And now I shall slip on some iodine and underclothes and come down as I am."

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