“Hush, darling.”
“Perhaps it was bitten by something?”
“Eat your nice fish, darling,” said the mother, who seemed to be one of those dull-witted persons whom it is impossible to interest in a discussion on first causes.
Archie felt stimulated. Not even the advent of his father-in-law, who came in a few moments later and sat down at the other end of the room, could depress his spirits.
The Sausage Chappie came to his table again.
“It’s a funny thing,” he said. “Like waking up after you’ve been asleep. Everything seems to be getting clearer. The dog’s name was Marie. My wife’s dog, you know. And she had a mole on her chin.”
“The dog?”
“No. My wife. Little beast! She bit me in the leg once.”
“Your wife?”
“No. The dog. Good Lord!” said the Sausage Chappie.