Thus, more and more Ruth turned to the mongrel dog who bore the name of Rollo unflinchingly—the dog that adored her openly, shamelessly, who now without a whimper took his diurnal tubbing. I ought to have seen—” “It doesn’t matter a rap—if you’re not disposed to resent the—the way I behaved. CHAPTER XIV. " The head turnkey, in all probability, would have obeyed. The dog approached timidly, his tail going furiously. ‘Why did you bring him? I hate him. “Is that you, Nigel?” she asked. . There was a murmur or two among the watchers on the bench, but no one ventured to intervene again.
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