We took our tea in the lounge, and then there was no excuse to linger. Simon went to find the motorcar.

Lydia said, “He’s a very nice man, isn’t he?”

“Yes, he is,” I agreed. Turning to look out the windows, I added, “It will be dark before very long. And another cold night, I expect.”

Lydia was silent, and then, pressing her fingers to her swollen face, she said, “Bess, you’ve been so kind. In spite of the fact that you know nothing about me.”

“How could I turn you away?” I asked. “But I wish there was something I could do to make whatever is troubling you easier to face.”

“Do you mean that?”

“Of course I do.”

I hadn’t seen the request coming. I was totally unprepared.

“Would you consider going with me to Vixen Hill? I think it would be easier to face Roger and his family if I had moral support. You’re stronger than I am, Bess. I could take my courage from you. Besides, it will be easier to explain to Roger and his family that I had come to London to stay with a friend. What I did would seem less-rash, ill-considered.” She made a deprecating face. “It would only be a small lie. No one would know that it was.”

“My parents are waiting for me in Somerset,” I began, and then realized that it was the wrong thing to say. “Lydia. Perhaps if you told me why you quarreled and how it was that your husband struck you-if I understood the circumstances a little better, perhaps I could help you see your way more clearly.”

She shook her head. “I shouldn’t have asked. It’s presumptuous of me even to think you could come with me.”

“Lydia-”

But Simon was walking through the restaurant door to fetch us, and we followed him out to the motorcar without speaking.