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Hichens, Robert Smythe, 1864-1950

"Flames"

Meanwhile let us have coffee."
He pushed his cigarette-case over to the doctor and touched the bell.
"Coffee!" he said, when Julian's man answered it.
The door stood open, and as the man murmured, "Yes, sir," a dog close by
howled shrilly.
The noise diverted Valentine's attention and roused him from the
agitation into which he had fallen. He glanced at the doctor.
"Rip," he said.
"Howling for his master," said the doctor.
"Wait a moment," Valentine said to the man, who was preparing to leave
the room. Then, to the doctor:
"I am his master."
"To be sure," rejoined the doctor, who had, in truth, for the moment
forgotten the fact, so long a time had elapsed since the little dog took
up his residence with Julian.
"You think he's howling for me?" Valentine said.
"I was thinking of Julian at the moment."
"And what do you say now? Still that he is howling for his master?"
The dog's voice was heard again. It sounded almost like a shriek of fear.
"No," the doctor replied, wondering what intention was growing in
Valentine's face.
"Oh!" Valentine said curtly.
He turned to the man.
"Bateman, bring Rip in here to us."
The man hesitated.
"I don't think he'll come, sir."
"I said, bring him to us.


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