"Oh, yes. He belongs to Miss French—Miss Valerie French. He's a nice little dog, isn't he?"
If Anthony Lyveden had reflected, it would have occurred to him that his informant had been, as they say, "very quick in the uptake." The truth was that less than a week ago Miss Valerie French had recognized Patch and had asked the same girl for the name of his owner.
"He's a beauty," said Anthony. "Does she keep him here all the time?"
"When she's in London," said the girl. "I expect you've seen her.
She's very often down."
Anthony nodded.
"I think I must have," he said.
Then he made much of Patch and handed him over.
"See you next week, little Patch. Next Saturday. Only a week from to-day. Good-bye, little fellow."
He ruffled the tousled head with a last caress, smiled at the puzzled brown eyes, and turned away….
There was no sweet sorrow about these partings. They were purely abominable.