Mavis looked at the friend of her youth. As she saw him now, he was,
in appearance, but a grown-up replica of the boy she remembered.
There were the same steely blue eyes, curly hair, and thin, almost
bloodless lips. With years and inches, the man had acquired a
certain defiant self-possession which was not without a touch of
recklessness; this last rather appealed to Mavis; she soon forgot
the resentment which his earlier familiarity had excited.

"You haven't altered a bit!" she declared.

"But you have."

"I know. I'm quite an old woman."

"That's what I was going to say."

"Thanks."

"I knew you'd be pleased. May I have my collar?"

"It's that naughty Jill. I am so sorry."

Mavis rescued the collar from the dog's unwilling mouth.

"How did you know it was me?"

"I guessed."

"Nonsense!"