He threw pieces of the bread and the rind of the cheese to his dog.

Nino caught each fragment in the air with a snap that would have lamed a horse for a month.

The woman glanced nervously at the animal, each time she heard his jagged teeth close.
Paoluccio appeared in due time, without coat or waistcoat, and with his sleeves rolled up above the elbows, as if he had been washing.

If he had, the operation had succeeded very imperfectly.

He glanced at Ercole as he passed in.
"Good-morning," he said, for he made it a point to be polite to customers, even when they brought their own food.
"Good-morning," answered Ercole, looking at him curiously.
Possibly there was something unusual in the tone of Ercole's voice, for Nino suddenly sat up beside his master's knee, forgetting all about the bread, and watched Paoluccio too, as if he expected something.