But she was disappointed. She thought about just asking him to take 116 her to his place and get it over with, but she reconsidered and decided to attempt to get to know him better. To have sprung this upon them to-night would have been worth a thousand pounds. 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. He was not Meysey Hill, but an Englishman of business, and he had only a small income. If ever I did meet a man I could love, I should love him”—her voice dropped again—“platonically. He read but little, and that chiefly healthy light fiction with chromatic titles, The Red Sword, The Black Helmet, The Purple Robe, also in order “to distract his mind.
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