Greta frowns at the dog's damaged ear. She'd noticed it before, but hadn't thought much of it; there are plenty of innocuous ways a dog might suffer such an injury. That he was defending Demelza from her father -- and Greta knows all too well what sort of damage he was willing to inflict -- is both moving and awful.

Awful, too, is the thought of anyone trying to hurt the children at the Gardens. It honestly isn't something that had occurred to her before now. It's a grand estate, and she might imagine someone getting it into their heads to try and rob the place, perhaps, but to hurt children just for the sake of it?

She ought to know awfulness has no limits, but it's still unpleasant to be confronted with a particular variety that she'd never considered.

Her expression softens when Demelza takes her arm, a familiar gesture that she doesn't see or receive so often here. It's fallen out of fashion, it seems. But it's perfectly natural coming from Demelza, and Greta automatically reaches over to pat her hand.

"Maybe I should get a dog," she muses, looking at Garrick with newfound appreciation. "We only used to have cats round the bakery, and..." she trails off as her brain catches up with her mouth, reminding her that she'll never see that bakery again, and she has to pause for a moment, look away, and gather herself before she can speak. "... Well. It might be nice."