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 dale had gained it and the Colonel's dying request, he did not wish to.

"Will you walk out and have some breakfast?" inquired the master, leading the way to the dining-room. Pierre followed meekly, showing by his dainty manners that he was used to the very best society.

He sat on a rug by the man's chair watching him eat, and from his expression he seemed hungry.

So the man passed him a juicy bit of steak, not porterhouse, but the best cut from the round.

He sniffed at it daintily, then looked up with a sorrowful expression, as though the meat were a great disappointment to him.

"Eat it, you little beggar," said the author rather sharply, for he was not in