Sally was about to raise her voice in a final “Wilfrid, will you go!” when there came a rapping on the door. She said “Come in!” instead, and Mr. David Moray walked into the room. He was a large, uncompromising young man of Scottish appearance, with blunt features and fair hair burnt to the colour of dry grass. His eyes were between blue and grey, and his eyebrows and lashes very fair and thick. He viewed Wilfrid with disfavour and addressed himself to Sally.
“Are you busy?”
“Frightfully.”
“With him?”
Wilfrid said, “Yes,” and Sally said, “No.”
David Moray frowned.
“Because if you’re not, there was something I rather wanted to ask you about.”
Wilfrid pulled himself up a little farther in his chair.
“Not another word. You wish to give up your attic, and you want somebody to break it to Paulina. Don’t worry-it doesn’t really need breaking at all. You want to give it up, I am ready and willing to take it. The whole thing is as good as done. Except for the mere physical transaction you have already moved out and I have moved in. Blood is thicker than water and a nod is as good as a wink to a blind horse. Paulina will be delighted. Sally walks on air.”
David looked at him bleakly.
“If you know what you are talking about, nobody else does.”
Wilfrid’s tone became tinged with malice.
“Sally and I do. The proverbial two hearts that beat as one. A stroke of the wand and we change over. I to Paulina’s attic, and you to my Mrs. Hunable, now mine no more. I have bestowed her upon you freely. I will go and pack.”