The barman came with the drinks.
“Mr. Beaver, sir, there's ten shillings against you in my books for last month.”
“Ah, thank you, Macdougal, remind me some time, will you?”
“Very good, sir.”
Beaver said,
“I'm going to Hetton tomorrow.”
“Are you now?
Give Tony and Brenda my love.”
“What's the form?”
“Very quiet and enjoyable.”
“No paper games?”
“Oh, no, nothing like that.
A certain amount of bridge and backgammon and low poker with the neighbours.”
“Comfortable?”
“Not bad.
Plenty to drink.
Rather a shortage of bathrooms.
You can stay in bed all the morning.”
“I've never met Brenda.”
“You'll like her, she's a grand girl.
I often think Tony Last's one of the happiest men I know.
He's got just enough money, loves the place, one son he's crazy about, devoted wife, not a worry in the world.”
“Most enviable.
You don't know anyone else who's going, do you?
I was wondering if I could get a lift down there.”
I don't I'm afraid.
It's quite easy by train.”
“Yes, but it's more pleasant by road.”
“And cheaper.”
“Yes, and cheaper I suppose … well, I'm going down to lunch.
You won't have another?”
Beaver rose to go.
“Yes, I think I will.”
“Oh, all right.
Macdougal. Two more please.”
Macdougal said,
“Shall I book them to you, sir?”
“Yes, if you will.”
Later, at the bar, Jock said,
“I made Beaver pay for a drink.”
“He can't have liked that.”
“He nearly died of it.
Know anything about pigs?”
“No.
Why?”
“Only that they keep writing to me about them from my constituency.”
Beaver went downstairs but before going into the dining room he told the porter to ring up his home and see if there was any message for him.
“Lady Tipping rang up a few minutes ago and asked whether you could come to luncheon with her today.”
“Will you ring her up and say that I shall be delighted to but that I may be a few minutes late.”
It was just after half past one when he left Brat's and walked at a good pace towards Hill Street.