She's going to sleep with them. She's theirs. Laertes has brought him a dog, and she's not going to be taken away from him when he can't get better or has to leave or their keeper falls out of love with him.

Sagramore brings the puppy hurriedly over to the bed and sets her down on the coverlet, and grits his teeth against the stinging in his eyes. He's not a child, he's not even drunk--

"Thou chosest well. She's a fine creature."