“I don’t know about that.”

“I do-I’m quite sure.” She laughed a little. “Whatever happens or doesn’t happen, I shall always have a passion for caramels. I’ve never stopped being thankful that I can eat them without putting on an ounce. Look here, there’s the bag between us, and we can both dip in like we used to.”

He laughed too, all the tension in him relaxed. To come back to Elizabeth was to slip into a place so accustomed, so comfortable, that you didn’t even have to think about it. An old coat, old shoes, an old friend-unromantic, undemanding, utterly restful.

She said, “Is it too early for tea? I’ll make some-” and saw him frown again.

“No. I’ve got Fancy with me-Frances Bell. We’re staying with Rietta. She’s gone in to Hardy’s to have her hair done, and she will want tea when she comes out.”

Elizabeth ’s very clear eyes dwelt on him consideringly.

“You wouldn’t like to bring her in here? I’ve got quite a new cake.”

He said, “Yes, I would.”

Elizabeth nodded.

“That’s lovely. Then we can just sit and talk. Tell me about her. Is she a friend of yours?”

“No.”

He didn’t know he was going to say it, but it was no sooner said than he thought, “My God-that’s true!” What sort of a mess had he got himself into, and how far in had he got? It was like walking in your sleep and waking up to find yourself with one foot over a killing drop.

“Tell me about her, Carr. What is she like?”

The tormented look was back again. He turned it on her.

“She’s like Marjory.”

“I only saw her once. She was very pretty.” It was said without rancour, yet they both remembered that one meeting, because it was after it that Elizabeth had said, “Are you in love with her, Carr?” They were here alone together in this very room, and when he looked away and couldn’t meet her eyes she had taken off her engagement ring and laid it down on the arm of the chair between them, and when he still had nothing to say she had gone out through the far door and up the old stair to her own room overhead. And he had let her go.