“You Mr. " CHAPTER XXV. 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 think that was what began his downfall. ‘Come, come, ma’am,’ he said smiling. She would become defensive—what she did would be the thing that mattered. She was the first to hear another car approaching from the street, an odd occurrence in an elementary school lot that had been abandoned for the weekend. Wood, in deploring his wild career, adverted to the melancholy condition to which it had reduced his mother.
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