Chum shrank back from the touch as a child
from a dose of castor oil. There was no fear now in his aspect.
Only disgust and a poignant unhappiness.
And, all suddenly, Link Ferris understood.
He himself did not know how the knowledge came to him. A canine
psychologist might perhaps have told him that there is always an
occult telepathy between the mind of a thoroughbred dog and its
master, a power which gives them a glimpse into each other's
processes of thought. But there was no such psychologist there to
explain the thing. Nor did Link need it explained. It was enough
for him that he knew.
He knew, as by revelation, that his adoring dog now shunned him
because Link was drunk.
From the first, Chum's look of utter worship and his eagerly
happy obedience had been a joy to Link. The subtly complete
change in his worshiper's demeanor jarred sharply on the man's
raw nerves. He felt vaguely unclean--shamed.
The contempt of such of his pious human neighbors as had passed
him in the road during his sprees had affected Link not at all.
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