Jonathan stepped behind a curtain. “She doesn’t know. So the talk went on, and presently they were criticising novelists, and certain daring essays of Wilkins got their due share of attention, and then they were discussing the future of the theatre. She laughed till the tears stood in her eyes. A fierce struggle ensued. 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. At the same time she was wildly exultant at the resolution she had taken, the end she had made to her blunder.
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