“Wake up!”

He came to with a jerk. If anyone had told him he would make a public exhibition of himself like this, he would have laughed in the idiot’s face. He found a tongue very little accustomed to being out of action, and said,

“It’s shock. You must make allowances. You were the last person on earth I expected to see.”

The gaze became severe.

“Does that mean you thought you had hold of a perfectly strange girl’s elbow, and found it was me?”

“No, it doesn’t. I should get the sack from the Yard if I went about doing that sort of thing. Besides, not very subtle-I can do better than that when I give my mind to it. Judy, where have you been?”

“Oh, in the country… We’re blocking the traffic.”

He took her by the arm and steered for a backwater.

“Well, here we are. Why didn’t you answer my letters?” He didn’t mean to say that, but it came out.

“Letters? I didn’t get any.”

He said, “I wrote. Where have you been?”

“Oh, here and there-with Aunt Cathy till she died, and then rather on the trek.”

“Called up?”

“No. I’ve got Penny-she hasn’t got anyone else.”

“Penny?”

“My sister Nora’s baby. She and John went in an air raid just after the last time I saw you. All right for them, but rotten for Penny.”

He saw her face stiffen. She looked past him as he said,

“I didn’t know. I’m sorry. What can one say?”

“Nothing. I can talk about it all right-you needn’t mind. And I’ve got Penny. She isn’t quite four, and there isn’t a single other relation who can take her, so I’ve got exemption. What about you?”

“They won’t let me go.”

“What rotten luck! Look here, I’ve got to fly and feed the child. We’re staying with Isabel March, and she’s lunching out, so I simply daren’t be late. She said she’d have Penny whilst I shopped.”

He kept hold of her arm.

“Wait a minute-don’t vanish till we’ve got something fixed. Will you dine with me?”