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Cross, Victoria, 1868-1952

"To-morrow?"


The official hesitated, and the onlookers, their sympathies engaged,
murmured,--
"Ah, pauvre chien!"
"C'est l'affection vois-tu?"
"Il aime le chien, c'est naturel!"
"L'affection, c'est toujours touchante!"
The Commissionaire, his own inclination thus backed up by the
prevailing sentiment, turned to me, and said--
"Well, M'sieur, I ought to take your dog from you, but still, as you
say you will bury the dog yourself, and, as I am sure this gentleman
will see that the grave is deep enough to protect the health of the
public, I believe I may safely grant you the permission you ask. It
is accorded, M'sieur!" and he bowed, full of satisfied amiable
authority and friendly feeling.
I held out my hand to him on the impulse.
"I am extremely obliged to you!"
He grasped it warmly in his, and laid his left effusively on his
heart.
"You have my sincere sympathy, M'sieur."
Then lifting his hat and bowing, and putting out of sight the
formidable document he had shaken in my face, he retreated down the
corridor, followed by the other official, and leaving the hotel
manager with me.
"I will have a grave dug at once, M'sieur," he said; "and you shall
be informed when it is ready."
I thanked him and entered my own room.
A good three hours later I was following the gardener downstairs,
the dead body of Nous, wrapped completely in one of my overcoats, in
my arms.


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