"Montague!" cried Mr. Morris, "my heart is sore for you. Can I do
nothing?"
"No, thank you," said the gentleman, without turning around; but there
was more anguish in his voice than in Mr. Morris's, and though I am only
a dog, I knew that his heart was breaking.
* * * * *
CHAPTER XXXV
BILLY AND THE ITALIAN
Mr. Morris stayed no longer. He followed Mr. Montague along the sidewalk
a little way, and then exchanged a few hurried words with some men who
were standing near, and hastened home through streets that seemed dark
and dull after the splendor of the fire. Though it was still the middle
of the night, Mrs. Morris was up and dressed and waiting for him. She
opened the hall door with one hand and held a candle in the other. I
felt frightened and miserable, and didn't want to leave Mr. Morris, so I
crept in after him.
"Don't make a noise," said Mrs. Morris. "Laura and the boys are
sleeping, and I thought it better not to wake them. It has been a
terrible fire, hasn't it? Was it the hotel?" Mr. Morris threw himself
into a chair and covered his face with his hands.
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