. “Now, there, there. I know nothing of that young lady. . He's neighbourly; he has a jingle for every ache and joy I've had. I had not the time to formulate the decoctions that would have saved him— they take weeks to create and must come from your own blood! You were perilously close to death, and had I not watched you constantly for the week you were unconscious they would have buried you alive! Gianfrancesco was ready to give up after two days, 172 ready to throw you in the plague cart! Of course he had no use for you after bearing witness to the loss of your womanly organs. 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. The doctor walked over to the bed, folded his arms across his chest and stared down into the unabashed eyes of his patient. He boasted of her ability to learn to men who were a stone’s throw from having the power of the pope himself. What else could one say? I left him to suppose—a registry perhaps.
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