And immediately she said, "Charles!"

I drew a deep breath of relief.

"Thank goodness that's over," I said.

"What's been the matter with us?"

"Probably my fault. I was stupid."

"But it's all right now?"

"Yes, it's all right now."

We smiled at each other.

"Darling!" I said. And then: "How soon will you marry me?"

Her smile died. The something, whatever it was, was back.

"I don't know," she said. "I'm not sure, Charles, that I can ever marry you."

"But, Sophia! Why not? Is it because you feel I'm a stranger? Do you want time to get used to me again? Is there someone else? No -" I broke off. "I'm a fool. It's none of those things."

"No, it isn't." She shook her head. I waited. She said in a low voice:

"It's my grandfather's death."

"Your grandfather's death? But why?

What earthly difference can that make? You don't mean - surely you can't imagine - is it money? Hasn't he left any? But surely, dearest-"

"It isn't money." She gave a fleeting smile. "I think you'd be quite willing to 'take me in my shift' as the old saying goes.

And grandfather never lost any money in his life."

"Then what is it?"

"It's just his death - you see, I think, Charles, that he didn't just - die. I think he may have been - killed…"

I stared at her.

"But - what a fantastic idea. What made you think of it?"

"I didn't think of it. The doctor was queer to begin with. He wouldn't sign a certificate. They're going to have a post mortem. It's quite clear that they suspect something is wrong."

I didn't dispute that with her. Sophia had plenty of brains; any conclusions she had drawn could be relied upon.

Instead I said earnestly:

"Their suspicions may be quite unjustified.

But putting that aside, supposing that they are justified, how does that affect you and me?"