When at last dreams came they would be haunted by a monstrous dog, all hair and eyes, who, with padding feet, would track her round and round a room from which there was no escape.

Hamlet, being one of the wisest of dogs, very quickly discovered that Mary hated him.

He was not a sentimental dog, and he did not devote his time to inventing ways in which he might placate his enemy, he simply avoided her.

But he could not hinder a certain cynical and ironic pleasure that he had of, so to speak, flaunting his master in her face.

He clung to Jeremy more resolutely than ever, would jump up at him, lick his hands and tumble about in front of him whenever Mary was there, and then suddenly, very straight and very grave, would stare at her as though he were the most devout and obedient dog in the place.