THE LANDLADY: Of course. And have you met my little Basil as well?
She nods toward the dachshund. Billy touches it gently on the top of its back.
BILLY: Good gracious me. It must be most awfully diffi cult to do a thing like that.
THE LANDLADY: Not in the least. I stuff all my little pets myself when they pass away. Will you have another cup of tea?
BILLY: No, thank you. The tea tastes faintly of bitter almonds, and he doesn’t much care for it. THE LANDLADY: You did sign the book, didn’t you? BILLY: Oh, yes.
THE LANDLADY: That’s good. Because later on, if I happen to forget what you were called, then I could always come down here and look it up. I still do that almost every day with Mr Mulholland and Mr … Mr …
BILLY: Temple, Gregory Temple. Excuse my asking, but haven’t there been any other guests here except them in the last two or three years?
Holding her teacup high in one hand, inclining her head slightly to the left, she looks up at him out of the corners of her eyes and gives him another gentle little smile.
