“A film of dust had settled on everything during my absence; the windows looked smeary; Mary’s favourite fern beside the front door had bent and cracked from thirst; meanwhile various damp items of unimportant post, many of them tactlessly addressed to my dead wife, littered the tiles for quite some distance along the musty hall, as if they had exploded through the letter-box. On what appeared to be a happier note, the dog seemed glad to be home. He scratched at the garden gate, and panted excit...edly. This I found rather gratifying, until, as he was straining at the lead coming up the garden path, it dawned on me: was he expecting to see Mary? It was soon distressingly clear that such was indeed the case. Once inside, I’m afraid I grew quite impatient with him as he stupidly ran round and round, romping upstairs and down, barking and wagging his tail, pawing at closed doors.“Stop it!” I said. “Come here, Watson! Watson, stop it. Come here!”I could not catch him. He raced in circles, scattering rugs, madly knocking against the furniture.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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