Paul looked unhappy. "It worries me," he said. "It worries me dreadfully. He was so nice and so silly and"—the corners of Paul's mouth went down—"and ... he died in the end."
"I quite agree with you," said the man. "It is worrying. Don't let us talk about it."
Thor suddenly sat up on his haunches and tried to lick Paul's face.
"You seem," said Paul, "to be very fond of reading, you've such a splendid lot of books. Do you ever, by any chance, read at meals?"
Paul held him with stern, searching eyes.
"Only when I'm alone," the man said primly.
"Never when people are there?" Paul asked, fixing him with a gaze that seemed to search his very soul.
"Well ... only at tea-time ... occasionally.... Why do you ask?"
"Because," Paul answered, "they're all so down on me for doing it. I always want to read at tea-time, and they won't let me. Now I shall tell them you do it; that'll surprise 'em."
"Oh, don't!" the man urged, "don't give me away. They'd be so shocked."