Just then Leo stalked into the room.
“Come on, old boy,” George called, snapping his fingers.
But the cat was suspicious, sniffing the air and looking at George with big, uneasy eyes. Obviously it didn’t like the smell of Cora’s perfume.
“Puss! Puss!” George called. “Come on. Up you come.”
Silently Leo turned and slid out of the room. George called, but the cat had gone.
A little distressed, he settled down once more. Well, if Leo wanted to be stupid, then he would have to go his own way, George thought. There were other things to think about besides Leo. He had been longing for the time when he could think hack on last night and savour all its excitements, brood over what Cora had said, and dwell on Cora herself.
It had been a wonderful night, in spite of the bad beginning. George hadn’t talked so much in his life. It was extraordinary how easy it was to talk to Cora. She led him on. Not that she said much herself, but she knew how to listen. And he had thought that he wouldn’t have been able to amuse her! Even now he found it difficult to believe that he had been such a success.
She had wanted to know about his life in the States. That was after she had got into bed. Her getting into bed was exciting. She hadn’t been a scrap self-conscious. It was he who had been embarrassed.
“What can I sleep in?” she had asked, “Or do I have to sleep in my skin?”
He had given her a pair of his pyjamas. Of course, they had been ridiculously big, but she didn’t seem to mind.