"And the greyhound," said the Parian girl.

"Yes, and the greyhound," said he eagerly. "He belongs to me. Come, a
glass case is nothing to it. We could roam; oh, we could roam!"

"I don't like roaming."

"Then we could stay at home, and lean against the greyhound."

"No," said the Parian girl, "I don't like that."

"Why?"

"I have private reasons."

"What?"

"No matter."

"I know," said the Cat-made-of-worsted. "I saw her behind. She's hollow.
She's stuffed with lamp-lighters. He! he!" and the Cat-made-of-worsted
grinned again.

"I love you just as much," said the steadfast
Boy-leaning-against-a-greyhound, "and I don't believe the Cat."

"Go away," said the Parian girl, angrily. "You're all hateful. I won't
have you."

"Ah!" sighed the Boy-leaning-against-a-greyhound.