"Say, charcoal would make a white mark on you, pussy," he went on, smoothing the creature in a manner which evidently found favor, for Pluto did not offer to stir.
"When I'm not doing her as Medusa," he reflected, "I'll paint her as a witch with this familiar. She'll only have to look at the artist to get the right expression."
"A distinguished visitor from the island of Manx, I suspect," he said aloud.
"No," returned Eliza, still fearfully embarrassed. "Pluto was born right here in New York."
The ever-ready stars in the visitor's eyes twinkled again into the green fire opposite them.
"It was his tail I was noticing. Manx cats are like that."
"Oh, that was boys. If I could 'a' caught 'em I'd 'a' liked to cut off their arms."
"I'll bet on that," thought Phil, "and their legs too."
Eliza cleared her throat. She seemed still to see the gentle eyes of her lost one rebuking her. With utter disregard of a future state she was preparing a lie.