He saw a sale in the offing. ‘Come in,’ he said jovially from behind the bar, ‘have a drink. What’ll you have, Mrs Tangye?’ Mr Teague, or Roy as he now insisted on us calling him, was in the fortunate position of being able to do his bargaining on his own licensed premises. Sales could be conducted in convivial circumstances, and though a purchaser might succeed in reducing a price or a seller in increasing it, the cost of the evening had to be considered. I was aware of this. I had therefore decided, in the event of us wishing to buy the donkey, to complete the deal with the minimum of argument. I might lose a pound or two on the price, but this was a sensible sacrifice if it meant we could speedily return to Minack. ‘We’ve just looked in to see the donkey,’ I said casually, ‘it was very nice of you to send the telegram.’ ‘Not at all,’ he said, ‘I’ve got a nice little donkey and thought I’d let you have the first chance.’ He had got us our drinks and was now leaning with elbows on the bar, hands interlocked.
