On a sudden impulse he walked down the street, turned to the left, and stood looking in at Jonathan Moore’s shop window. There was a fine set of red and white ivory chessmen in Manchu and Chinese dress-war formalized into a game. He watched the pieces, admiring the exquisite precision of the carving, angry underneath. Then all at once he straightened up, pushed open the door, and went in. A bell tinkled, Elizabeth came to meet him. The anger dropped out of him and was gone.

She said, “Carr!” and they stood looking at one another.

It was only for a moment that he was able to look at her as if she were a stranger, because though it was nearly five years since they had met, he had known her all his life. But for just that one moment he did see her as if it was the first time-the tall light figure, the clear windblown look she had, brown hair ruffled back from the forehead, bright eager eyes, and a quick tremulous smile. He got the impression of something startled into joy, ready to take flight, to escape, to become unobtainable-the whole thing much too fleeting to pass into conscious thought. She spoke first, in the voice which he had always liked-a pretty, clear voice full of gravity and sweetness.

“Carr-how nice! It’s been such a long time, hasn’t it?”

He said, “A million years,” and then wondered why he had said it. Only it didn’t matter what you said to Elizabeth – it never had.

She put out a hand, but not to touch him. It was an old remembered gesture.

“As long as that? My poor dear! Come along through and let’s talk. Uncle Jonathan is out at a sale.”

He followed her into the little sitting-room behind the shop-shabby comfortable chairs, old-fashioned plush curtains, Jonathan Moore’s untidy desk. Elizabeth shut the door. They might have been back in the past before the deluge. She opened a cupboard, rummaged, and produced a bag of caramels.

“Do you still like them? I think you do. If you really like something you go on liking it, don’t you think?”