Spreta. I daren't. The steamer has one red and one green eye—just like Mopsëman's at mealtimes!
Alfred (common-sensibly). Only her lights, you know. She doesn't mean anything personal by it.
Spreta. But they're actually mooring her by the very pier that——How can they have the heart!
Alfred. Steamboat companies have no feelings. Though why you should feel it so, when you positively loathed the dog.
Spreta. After all, you weren't so particularly fond of him yourself; now were you, Alfred?
Alfred. H'm, he was a decent dog enough—for a mongrel. I didn't mind him; now you did.
Spreta (nods slowly). There is a change in me now. I am easier to please. I could share you with the mangiest mongrel, if I were only quite sure you would never again want to follow that minx Mopsa, Alfred!
Alfred. I never said I did want to; though I can't answer for the troll. But I must go away somewhere—I'm such a depressing companion for you. I shall go away up into the solitudes—which reminds me of an anecdote I never told either you or Mopsa before. Sit down and I will tell it you.
Spreta (timidly). Not the one about the night of terror you had on the mountains, Alfred, when you lost your way and couldn't find a policeman anywhere about the peaks? Because I've heard that—and I don't think I can stand it again.