“You’ll have a lot of trouble with him,” I said. “Why?” said Vernon quickly. “Why? Why, he’s evidently a very nervous dog. I should think it’ll take time to reconcile him with his new home and his new master.” “Good God!” said Lord Elyn. As I finished speaking the dog had suddenly howled again. Involuntarily I stepped back. Vernon laughed once more. “Why, anybody would think you were afraid of him,” he said. “What’s the matter?” [Illustration: “POOR BEAST! POOR BEAST!”] I tried to laugh too—to laugh at myself. “He gave tongue so very unexpectedly,” I said. “Poor fellow! Poor fellow!” I was speaking to the dog, but I did not go towards him. The faint disgust with which he had already inspired me in the Park was stronger now that I was with him in a room. I was conscious of an almost invincible desire to go straight out of the house, to get into the open air, quickly, without delay. But with this feeling blended another, more subtle, one that surprised me by its force. I longed, before I went, to untie that crouching dog, to let him escape from the room, the house, to set him free. With the disgust of him mingled a curious pity for him that was inexplicable to me then. I think Lord Elyn shared my feelings, but he acted differently from me. For, whereas I now moved away to go, he suddenly, with determination, walked forward towards the spaniel. Seeing this, I stopped just outside the door in the corridor. From there I witnessed a sight that increased my sensation of pity, and at the same time deepened my sensation of disgust. Lord Elyn, when he was near the spaniel, bent down a little, snapping his fingers and saying, “Poor beast! poor beast!” whereupon the dog suddenly sprang up from the floor against his breast, in an obvious attempt to nestle into his arms as if for protection against some danger. Lord Elyn, surprised, tried to hold him, but failed, and let him drop heavily to the floor. Vernon interposed. Going forward quickly he said, “I’m awfully sorry, Lord Elyn. He’s muddied you. Come out and Cragg shall brush it off.” The dog shrank back against the curtain. “Oh, it doesn’t matter,” Lord Elyn began. But Vernon took his arm and drew him with a sort of gentle inflexibility towards the door and into the corridor where I was standing. “Cragg,” Vernon called; “Cragg.” “Sir,” said the man coming from the hall. Vernon shut the door of the study sharply. “Just get a brush, will you? The dog has put his dirty paws on Lord Elyn’s coat.” “Certainly, Sir.” He turned on the electric light. Lord Elyn stood under it to be brushed. I noticed that his face looked very white, but thought it might be the effect of the light upon it. When Cragg had finished, Lord Elyn said— “Good-night, Vernon,” and walked hastily towards the hall door. “May I come with you?” I said. “Do.” I bade Vernon good-bye with a word and a hand-grasp, and in a moment Lord Elyn and I were out in the street. “Ouf!” said Lord Elyn, blowing out his breath.