After breakfast, Angus Lordie went through to his studio, followed by Cyril, who usually padded after him if he moved rooms, settling himself in an accustomed spot and watching his master for any signs of dog-related activity: the fetching of a lead would be a signal for immediate enthusiastic barking; the fetching of a dog bowl would bring an immediate wagging of the tail and the protrusion, over canine canines, of a ready-to-serve tongue. But while Angus was painting, Cyril knew that as little distraction as possible was wanted; this reminded Angus of the rule in the Savile Club in London where, on the members’ breakfast table, is displayed a sign saying Conversation Not Preferred. He had enjoyed an absurd exchange with Domenica on the subject.

‘Such wording is so polite,’ he remarked. ‘Yet it’s unambiguous: there is no prohibition of conversation, but to initiate it would be to go against the wishes of the committee, and that should, in civic society, be enough to inhibit.’

‘Oh yes,’ said Domenica. ‘But one can’t have polite requests in all situations. What about parking regulations? Do you think that people would obey polite signs that simply requested them not to park?’

Angus thought about this for a moment. ‘They might do so in Edinburgh, don’t you think? Can’t you just imagine it? We wouldn’t have signs saying No Parking, or Parking Prohibited; our signs would confine themselves to saying Parking Not Preferred. And should a driver ignore such a sign, then a traffic warden would place a small ticket on his or her windscreen. This would read: “This is rather inconsiderate of you. Please don’t park here, if you don’t mind awfully. Thank you.” ’

Domenica stared at him. ‘Which world are you living in, Angus?’

Angus looked rueful. ‘Not this one, I suppose. But don’t you think that there’s a point in having some idea of a better world? Don’t most people have something like that?’

Domenica admitted that some did – Utopian socialists, for instance, who believed in the perfectibility of man if only we could establish economic justice and the conditions that went with that. ‘But they are so few these days,’ she said. ‘Most people now believe that the world is hopelessly flawed and that at the most we can tidy it up around the edges.’

‘And religious people?’ asked Angus. ‘Don’t most religions have an idea that the world can be made better – if only people would see the world from their point of view, which of course not everybody does.’

‘They do, I suppose,’ said Domenica. ‘And that swells the numbers of those who believe that we might have a better future. But …’