The singer came and sat in the window again.
"Gantry Bill," he said softly, "which of us did she call a dear?"
Gantry Bill wagged his tail again.
He hadn't the smallest doubt.
"That seemed to fetch her rather," the singer continued.
Gantry Bill evidently thought this a foolish remark, for he made no response.
"It's a shame to make such a pretty girl work so hard, ain't it, Bill?"
Here Gantry Bill was more sympathetic, and tried to lick his master's face.
"We'll try another," said that gentleman, "we'll fetch her again, won't us, Bill?"
But he sang the most passionate love songs in his repertoire, apparently to deaf ears. The little head, with its cameo-like profile and dark wealth of hair, remained studiously bent under the shaded light. The self-governing unit had triumphed.