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. She had not been sufficiently prompted in relation to the ways of caravansaries; but her mind had been alert and receptive. He went in and leaned, panting, against one wall. ‘Then I am not mad in the least. He and his friends (he had at least two per class, even in Trigonometry) would make their exits as quickly as possible. It was a unique experience for her to wash him.
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