CHAPTER XVIII. Wells “The art of ignoring is one of the accomplishments of every well-bred girl, so carefully instilled that at last she can even ignore her own thoughts and her own knowledge. ‘Wait a minute, though. He stood before her. I don’t think I’ve got illusions, nor you. It really isn’t so easy to go as it seems. He looked across at Annabel, and he groaned. 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.
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