‘His wife? Pah!’ ‘You’re saying she is not his wife?’ ‘I am saying nothing. But not today. Presently he turned to Courtlaw. He would sit in his inner office and compose conversations with her, penetrating, illuminating, and nearly conclusive—conversations that never proved to be of the slightest use at all with her when he met her face to face. 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. .
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