They remembered their common love of animals and told of the comedies and tragedies that had befallen their pets.

Joan's regret was that she had not now even a dog, thinking it cruel to keep them in London.

She hated the women she met, dragging the poor little depressed beasts about at the end of a string: savage with them, if they dared to stop for a moment to exchange a passing wag of the tail with some other little lonely sufferer.

It was as bad as keeping a lark in a cage.

She had tried a cat: but so often she did not get home till late and that was just the time when the cat wanted to be out; so that they seldom met.