“Very well. Benny sends his love.” “Really well? You weren’t …” “Apparently not, judging by the fact that two of the audience screamed just after Polly’s exit. How’s the hand?” “It hurts when I think about it. I’m not really interested in them. I want to know about you. Were you all right?” “I’d like some hot milk with rum in it. Give yourself something. We’re not going to bed for a bit.” “It’s half past two.” “I know.” “All right. You’d better come and get it. I might spill with a tray.” He fidgeted while he waited for her call, interrupted the flow of the water-clock, fingered about among her collection of treen, made adjustments to the fire. At the sound of her voice he crossed rapidly to the kitchen but slowed his pace at the door. He came back behind her, carrying both mugs which he put on the table by the sofa.
