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Cross, Victoria, 1868-1952

"To-morrow?"

They only
care for obedience, and not at all how it is attained.
For myself I can see no pleasure in being merely dreaded. I should
hate to see anything--man, woman, servant, dog, anything--start in
terror at my footstep; hate to feel I brought gloom wherever I came,
and left relief behind me.
Nous was extremely quick-witted, and it used to amuse me enormously
the way he behaved when, as sometimes happened, I trod upon his foot
accidentally, or fell over him in the dark. Knowing that he had
never had a voluntary blow from me in his life, he would leap
enthusiastically over me and lick my hands after his first yelp, as
much as to say--
"Yes; I know it was quite an accident. I know, I am sure you didn't
mean it."
We had been inseparable, he and I, for these ten years. He had
walked by my side, eaten from my plate, slept on my bed, and his
death now in my service left a heavy, jagged-edged wound. As I sat
there in the corner of the couch, with my hand absently stroking the
glossy black coat, there came the very soft jarring of a key in the
lock.
I glanced towards Howard's door. The sound continued. The key was
being very slowly and gently turned, and then the handle was grasped
and cautiously revolved. He evidently hoped I was asleep, and wanted
to enter without disturbing me. I sat in silence with my eyes on the
door, which slowly opened.


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