Wherever she had been, he found the presence of that strange thing that took away his loneliness.

It was the woman scent, and sometimes it made him whine softly when the girl herself was actually with him.

He was not lonely, nights, when he should have been out howling at the stars.

He was not lonely, because one night he prowled about until he found a certain door, and when the girl opened that door in the morning she found him curled up tight against it.

She had reached down and hugged him, the thick smother of her long hair falling all over him in a delightful perfume; thereafter she placed a rug before the door for him to sleep on.