The
doctor started at the sound and leaned further forward along the table
to see the upshot of this strange fight between a man's desire and an
animal's fear. Rip scarcely whined now, but turning his head rapidly
from one side to the other, with a motion that seemed to become merely
mechanical, he made a hoarse noise that was like a terrified and
distressed growl half strangled in his throat. But though he wavered
against the door, he did not obey Valentine and go to him, and the
doctor was conscious of a sudden thrill of joy in the dog's obstinacy.
This obstinacy angered Valentine greatly. His face clouded. He bent
forward. He put out his hands as if to seize Rip. The dog snapped at
him frantically, wildly. But Valentine did not recoil. On the contrary,
he advanced, bending down over the wretched little creature. Then Rip
shrank down on all fours before the door. To the doctor's watching
eyes he seemed to wane visibly smaller. He dropped his head. Valentine
bent lower. Rip lay right down, pressing himself upon the floor. As
Valentine's hand touched him a quiver ran over him, succeeded by a
surprising stillness.
The doctor made a slight sound. He knew that Rip was dead. Valentine took
the little dog by the scruff of its neck and lifted it up.
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