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. And also I have this Prudence. It was as if her finite human brain could only store a limit of information, details like hair color and fingernail shape easily jettisoned to make room for the nuances of a grin or the emotion of a shoulder blade. To tell you the truth, he spoke to me very seriously upon the subject. “You MUST,” he said, “because of my depression. ” “I know,” said Manning, nodding gravely.
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