'There was one time that he didn't come back.

'Yes.

'What was the final row about, do you know?

'I don't think there was one. I think he just told her he was through. At least that is what he said at the inquest. Did you read the obituaries, by the way?

'I suppose I must have at the time. I don't remember them individually.

'If she had lived another ten years she would have got a tiny par in among the «ads» on the back page. As it was she got better notices than Duse. "A flame of genius has gone out and the world is the poorer." "She had the lightness of a blown leaf and the grace of a willow in the wind." That sort of thing. One was surprised that there were no black edges in the Press. The mourning was practically of national dimensions.

'It's a far cry from that to Liz Garrowby.

'Dear, nice Liz. If Marguerite Merriam was too bad even for Walter Whitmore, then Liz is too good for him. Much too good for him. I should be delighted if the beautiful young man took her from under his nose.

'Somehow I can't see your "beautiful young man" in the role of husband, whereas Walter will make a very good one.

'My good man, Walter will broadcast about it. All about their children, and the shelves he has put up in the pantry, and how the little woman's bulbs are coming along, and the frost patterns on the nursery window. She'd be much safer with-what did you say his name was?

'Searle. Leslie Searle. Absentmindedly he watched the pale yellow neon signature of Laurent's coming nearer.

'I don't think safe is the adjective I would apply to Searle, somehow, he said reflectively; and from that moment forgot all about Leslie Searle until the day when he was sent down to Salcott St Mary to search for the young man's body.

2

'Daylight! said Liz, coming out on to the pavement. 'Good clean daylight. She sniffed the afternoon air with pleasure. 'The car is round the corner in the square. Do you know London well, Mr-Mr Searle?