Last Wednesday I decided to take a post-prandial constitutional stroll through Hyde Park. It was a fine if slightly chilly afternoon but I enjoyed my unhurried walk, listening to the first thrushes singing and watching a group of starlings swarming around a clump of crab apple trees, pecking wastefully at the ripe fruit. Leaves were still to be found lingering in some trees-deep, shiny yellow on the birches, pale green and golden on the elms.

I was so engrossed by the beauties of nature that I failed to notice that a girl who was walking in front of me had stopped to deposit an unwanted newspaper in a litter bin and a slight collision ensued.

'Oh, I do beg your pardon,' I gasped. 'How very foolish of me, I was simply not looking where I was going.'

'That's alright, Anna, no damage done,' said the girl cheerfully. 'It's just as well though that you were not at the wheel of one of these new horseless carriages or a really nasty accident could have ensued.'

How did she know my name? I looked at her closely and although I recognised the voice, I could not quite place the face of this extremely attractive blonde-haired blue-eyed creature who giggled and said: 'I do believe that you have forgotten who I am. Mind, it must be four or five months ago since we dined together at my cousin Jenny Everleigh's house in South Audley Street, Mayfair, a few days before I sailed to New York.'

Suddenly my memory returned. 'Of course I remember you! Your name is Molly Farquhar, Jenny's cousin from Cockfosters in Hertfordshire. What a nice surprise to meet you again. Yes, I recall your telling me that you spend a great deal of time in America. When did you come back home, Molly?'