One of his converted Kanakas dropped in one day. Like a petulant child he snapped. "No, no, let him alone," interposed Wood. 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 had in her suitcase a small scrapbook, only a few pages, what little information she had gathered on him through the years. She had thought that all Morningside Park householders came home before seven at the latest, as her father usually did. “With your permission I should like to search the remainder of your rooms.
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