"You know," he continued after a while, "your introduction to Binks at such an early stage in the proceedings has rather spoilt the masterly programme I had outlined in my mind. First you were to be charmed and softened by Mrs. Green's wonderful tea. Secondly, you were to see Binks; be formally introduced. You were to fall in love with him on sight, so to speak; vow that you could never be parted from such a perfect dog again. And then, thirdly. . . ." "His appearance is all that I could desire," she interrupted irrelevantly; "but I beg to point out that he is an excessively dirty feeder. . . ." Vane stood up and looked at the offender. "You mean the shower of tea drops that goes backwards on to the carpet," he said reflectively. "'Twas ever thus with Binks." "And the tea leaves adhering to his beard." She pointed an accusing finger at the unrepentant sinner. "You should have poured it through that sieve affair," said Vane. "Your own manners as a hostess are not all they might be. However, Binks and I are prepared to overlook it for once, and so we will pass on to the thirdly. . . ." He handed her the cigarette box, and with a faint smile hovering round her lips, she looked up at him. "Is your thirdly safe?" she asked. "Mrs. Green thought it wonderful. A suitable climax to a dramatic situation." "You've had a rehearsal, have you?" "Just a preliminary canter to see I hadn't forgotten anything." "And she approved?" "She suggested an alternative that, I am rather inclined to think, might be better," he answered. "It's certainly simpler. . . ." Again she smiled faintly. "I'm not certain that Mrs. Green's simpler alternative strikes me as being much safer than your thirdly," she murmured. "Incidentally, am I failing again in my obvious duties? It seems to me that Binks sort of expects something. . . ." Another fusillade of tail thumps greeted the end of the sentence. "Great Scott!" cried Vane, "I should rather think you were. However, I don't think you could very well have known; it's outside the usual etiquette book." He handed her the indiarubber dog. "A feint towards the window, one towards the door--and then throw." A quivering, ecstatic body, a short, staccato bark--and Binks had caught his enemy. He bit once; he bit again--and then, a little puzzled, he dropped it. Impossible to conceive that it was really dead at last--and yet, it no longer hooted. Binks looked up at his master for information on the subject, and Vane scratched his head. "That sure is the devil, old son," he remarked. "Have you killed it for keeps. Bring it here. . . ." Binks laid it obediently at Vane's feet. "It should squeak," he explained to Joan as he picked it up, "mournfully and hideously." She came and stood beside him and together they regarded it gravely, while Binks, in a state of feverish anticipation, looked from one to the other.