It is your child – you have made it – without you it would not be there at all. It is flesh of your flesh, or, like this child of mine, thought of your thought, and between its conception and its birth there may be many years. With my child, it is five years that it has been in my thoughts night and day, and all that time I have worked with all my might for this moment when I could say, “Here is my work! It is fulfilled – it is perfect! Look at it!” When it is grown it will do the work which I have brought it into the world to do. Now it must have nurses. It must grow, and be strong. It must be schooled, and tutored.’ He reached his hand for his cup again and said, ‘The man from the War Office will come down tomorrow. When I have finished my tea I ring him up. I tell him, “Well, Sir George, it is over. You can come down and see me for yourself. You can bring your experts. They can see, they can test. I give you the formula, my notes of the process – I give you everything. You can take my harschite and put it to its work. My part is done.” ’

Janice said quickly, ‘Does it make you sad to let it go – like that?’

He smiled at her again. ‘A little, perhaps.’

‘Let me give you some more tea.’

‘You are very kind.’

He watched her, with the kindness in her eyes, as she took his cup and filled it. She was wishing so much she could say something that would make him feel less sad. She hadn’t got the words, she didn’t know them – not the right ones – and it would be unbearable to blunder. She could only give him his tea. She didn’t know that her thoughts spoke for her in eye and lip, rising colour and eager hand.

He said, ‘You are very kind to me.’

‘Oh, no-’

‘I think you are. It has made this time very pleasant.’

He paused, and added without any change in his voice, ‘My daughter would have been just about your age – perhaps a little older – I do not know-’

‘I’m twenty-two.’

‘Yes – she would have been twenty-three.