It did so, but it watched him as he doffed his dogskin cap and buffalo
coat. He looked round the room slowly once as though he wished to fix it
clearly and deeply in his mind. Then he sat down and held near the
firelight the letter the factor had given him. His features grew stern
and set as he read it. Once he paused in the reading and looked into the
fire, drawing his breath sharply between his teeth. Then he read it to
the end without a sign. A pause, and he said aloud: "So this is how the
lines meet again, Varre Lepage!" He read the last sentence of the letter
aloud:

In the hope that you may soon give me good news of my husband,
I am, with all respect,

Faithfully yours,

ROSE LEPAGE.

Again he repeated: "With all respect, faithfully yours, Rose Lepage."

The dog Bouche looked up. Perhaps it detected something unusual in the
voice. It rose, came over, and laid its head on its master's knee. Hume's
hand fell gently on the head, and he said to the fire: "Ah, Rose Lepage,
you can write to Factor Field what you dare not write to your husband if
you knew. You might say to him then, 'With all love,' but not 'With all
respect.'"

He folded the letter and put it in his pocket. Then he took the dog's
head between his hands and said: "Listen, Bouche, and I will tell you a
story." The dog blinked, and pushed its nose against his arm.