Sheppard," said Wood, glancing round the chamber, as he expanded his palms before the scanty flame. 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 drew a long breath. She reads novels—and history—and all sorts of things. ‘Did I say so? When last heard from you were claiming some good English name. They went on talking in the train—it seemed to her father a slight want of deference to him—and he listened and pretended to read the Times. She stepped back quickly, and her hand knocked a wine-glass from the table to smash noisily on the floor.
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