“You wait until you get that reward,” I said. “You’ll think differently then.”
“But, I don’t want it,” she returned emphatically. “That’s another thing I can’t understand. Yesterday, I was furious with you, but now—well, I just don’t want it. I can get along without it and besides, it’s not really honest.”
This shocked me. Something had happened to her.
“Not honest?” I repeated stupidly. “What’s the idea?”
“You know as well as I do,” she said impatiently, “I wasn’t rescued and you have no right to try to claim the reward.”
“This is too much for me,” I said, lying back. “Coming from you, that’s rich!”
Just then Bogle opened the verandah door and stuck his head round. “Don’t mind me, if you’re busy,” he said, leering at Myra. “I’m scared of my own company, this morning.”
“Come in, Sam,” I said wearily. “If you’ve any friends, bring ’em in too. I always work best when I’ve a room full of people.”
“There ain’t no one but me and Whisky,” Bogle said, coming in. He was followed by the wolfhound “Whisky’s taken a liking to me.”
Myra and I looked at the wolfhound uneasily. The dog clicked its teeth in an absent-minded kind of way and lay down near the bed. It eyed us with sleepy insolence and then stretched out with its head on Bogle’s boot.