“Yes; he knows. There, old chap, you’ll know me again, eh?”
Bruno licked the hand which took hold of his muzzle, and whined softly.
“See that, Miss Bellwood?”
“Yes, it is his way of thanking you for what you have done.”
“No, I think not. It is his way of showing you that I am not an impostor. No dog would make such friends with a rogue.”
“Are we not giving him the credit of having too much sense?” said Gertrude archly.
“Ah, well, perhaps so; but I thank him for giving me this interview. I thought I should like a look round the old place—that is why I came down; and—yes, I can’t be a sham—I did hope that I might catch a glimpse of you. Good-bye.”
He held out his hand again.
“Good-bye,” she said slowly and sadly; and she once more timidly placed her hand in his, when he raised it to his lips.
The next moment he was gone, and Bruno uttered a growl, picked up the stick once more, and carried it to the house, Gertrude walking meditatively before him, and asking herself whether she had done right in talking as she had with such a comparative stranger. Her meditations were broken by the voice of Mrs Denton.