“I expect you think I’m a hit of a fool,” he said, a little bitterly. “I suppose I am really. I suppose most people would think I’m a bit soft being so fond of Leo—he’s my cat. It’s funny about Leo. I used to think people were a bit soft myself, being fond of animals; but somehow Leo’s different.” He stared into the darkness, trying to see her. “It’s when you’re lonely, you know. Animals seem to understand. They don’t demand anything from you. If you don’t feel like talking, they just sit with you. If you want to go out, they don’t mind. Leo’s jolly good company, but of course it isn’t the same as having someone you can really talk to. Is it?”
She still didn’t reply.
He waited a moment and repeated a little louder, “Is it?”
“Is what?” she asked sleepily.
“Oh, nothing; you’re nearly asleep, aren’t you? I’m sorry. But it’s not often I get anyone to talk to.”
“That’s pretty obvious,” she said tartly, turning on her side. “You’d talk a donkey’s hind leg off.”
But he couldn’t let her go to sleep just yet. It was only eleven o’clock, and it seemed such a wicked waste of a marvellous opportunity, just to sleep.
“I say, Cora,” he said, lighting a cigarette.
“Hmmm?”
“Shall I see you again after this?”