For a moment her grey eyes contemplated me with calm surprise; then her gaze travelled to Rufus, who promptly sat up and wagged his tail.
"That," I explained, "is his manner of apologizing."
She turned back to me, and her lips parted in a frank smile.
"I expect," she said, "that I ought to be apologizing instead. This is not my island, as—as you probably know."
"It certainly isn't mine," I returned, "and you were here first."
"Very well," she said. "I'll accept the apology. After all, you've made me break a plate."
"Your nerves must be splendid," I said. "I should have broken a whole dinner-service."
She laughed cheerfully.
"It was silly of me to be startled, but somehow or other one doesn't expect afternoon visitors here." Then she paused. "I don't know whether you are a friend of the owner of the island," she added. "Indeed, I'm afraid I don't even know who he is."
"His name," I said, "is George. We are slightly acquainted."