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"Absolutely," he replied. "In fact, he is something of a poseur. He tries his hardest to look desperate and savage, and succeeds fairly well, but in reality he is the gentlest dog that ever ran from a cat."
"What's his name?"
"Bistre, so called because of the brown spot which disfigures his countenance, and which his master considers a badge of beauty."
"Oh, then he is not your dog?"
"No; he belongs to Mr. Brough. I am staying with him—that is, with Mr. Brough."
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"Really?" Miles thought she observed
him with a sudden access of
interest and felt a qualm of jealousy;
he wondered if she knew Hunter.
"You're a nice dog," she remarked,
stroking Bistre's beauty spot. Bistre
closed his eyes and looked absolutely