The cat yowled again, and again, in the silence that followed, he heard the plop of the water dropping into the sink, as he stood in the middle of the hall under the dim wall light. Through force of habit rather than necessity (for he could really identify it by touch just as well) he stood close under the light and looked at the key in his hand to make sure that it was the one with the two large teeth at the end; the other was for the street door downstairs. He looked up quickly as a sound came from the front room, the muffled sound of a chair being dragged across a rug; and he thought, she’s pulling it closer to the table, to read; that’s good, she’ll be sitting down.
That’s good, he thought, what do you mean that’s good, what’s the difference, go on in.…