You can't imagine a greater contrast.

The Skye so slow and deliberate, looking up at you like some old gentleman in the club, as much as to say, 'You don't really mean it, do you ?' and the Schipperke as quick as a knife.

I liked the Skye best, I must confess.

There was something pathetic about him." The story seemed to have no climax.
"What happened to him ?" Rachel asked.
"That's a very sad story," said Richard, lowering his voice and peeling an apple.

"He followed my wife in the car one day and got run over by a brute of a cyclist." "Was he killed ?" asked Rachel.
But Clarissa at her end of the table had overheard.
"Don't talk of it!" she cried.