CHAPTER XXVI Spurlock went out on his toes, careful lest the bamboo curtain rattle behind him. 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 closed the door partially behind himself. She heard his voice screaming her name into the twilight as she fled, his cries trailing like banners, weaving through the breeze that had begun to gently stir the dew on the ground. This—’ waving an imperious hand in a sweeping arc about the library ‘—is my house. “She’s my wife,” the man muttered.
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