Helena—[Smiling.] There is the window.
Storm—I could not lift my legs now.
Helena—That’s a memory you may keep.
Storm—Good night.
Helena—Good-bye, Gheid Storm, and as you go down the hill, will you lock the gate, a dog thief passed in the night, taking my terrier with him.
Storm—The one with the brown spots?
Helena—Yes.
Storm—That was a fine dog.
Helena—Yes, she was a fine dog—restless.
Storm—They say any dog will follow any man who carries aniseed.