"I'M SORRY, miss, we don't allow dogs in the dining-room." Pan felt a swift dismay.
"Oh, please he's such a very good little dog. He'll sit under my chair. You won't know he's there."
The waiter looked at her regretfully.
"I'm sorry, miss," he repeated, "but it's the rule. I can't go against it."
Pan stood firm. She gave him her most melting look. It was one that rarely failed especially with men.
"Sit, Ruff," she said. Ruff, a little black-and-white mongrel and her dearest possession, subsided on his haunches. His ears dropped. His look was even more eloquent than Pan's.
The waiter was only human. He hesitated momentarily. Then he said doubtfully: "Well, miss, if you promise me he really will stay put..."
"Of course he will." Pan's smile was radiant. "Thank you so much. Come along, Ruff."
She followed the waiter to a table in the window, tucked Ruff beneath her chair, picked up the menu and glanced at it idly.
Jules Stacey, sitting at a nearby table, was tempted to lean forward and congratulate her. A few minutes ago a middle-aged woman, in a badly fitting tweed suit, had been firmly refused admission by the same waiter because she, too, had had a small dog with her. She'd tried unsuccessfully to wheedle him and had left defeated.
Vintage paperback

Condition: Good