"No, but I knew it, and I didn't like the idea of your owing anything to any one except—me," and he gave me one of his warmest smiles when he said that. "I did not see the doctor myself, but a friend arranged the matter for me. By the way, he owes you a considerable little sum over the amount he paid for your fare from Boston, though we are not going to bother collecting it. We'll let it go."
"What do you mean?"
"It seems he considered the dog a very expensive article. I paid him three hundred dollars for Verley, whose high-bred ancestry I very much doubt."
"Three hundred dollars! Oh, what a shame! He wasn't worth anything like that," I cried.
He said after a moment, during which he looked at me very steadily:
"Yes, he was worth that to me: he was—yours."
I caught my breath, I was so happy when he said that.
"Now I know you do like me," I said, "else you wouldn't say things like that."
"Nonsense!" he said.
"Why do you bother about me at all, then?" I asked.