“Here, madam, be a little kind, I beg you,” he said to an exuberant Vespertine, who stood on her hind legs, front paws braced on either of his shoulders. She was sniffing his face with a wary intensity. “Harry, stop playing with the dog,” I ordered. “I am hardly playing,” he protested. “I think she has designs upon me.” He pushed her gently away, and she dropped to all fours with a low grumble.
