It was nice to have one thing whose love was all mine.

That old dog has been such a comfort to me, Anne.

He got so feeble in the fall that I was afraid he couldn't live long--but I hoped I could nurse him through the winter.

He seemed pretty well this morning.

He was lying on the rug before the fire; then, all at once, he got up and crept over to me; he put his head on my lap and gave me one loving look out of his big, soft, dog eyes--and then he just shivered and died.