'You're a friend of Jenny's, aren't you?' he asked.

'That's right,' she said. 'How's she enjoying college?' 'Fine,' he answered, 'I think she's very happy there. She'll soon be home for the holidays. Perhaps we'll see you at the house. It's Sheila, isn't it?' 'That's right. It depends where I fit into Jenny's new scale of friends, I suppose. I'd quite like to see her.' Connon reluctantly digested another piece of the revolting honesty of the young and turned to go. He heard a burst of laughter as he moved to the door. Arthur noticed him this time. 'Hey, Connie, how are you there, boyo? How's the head?'

'It's all right now.'

'Good. I settled that fellow's nonsense anyhow. Time for a drink?'

'No thanks, Arthur. Owen coming down tonight?'

'Why yes, she is. Always does, doesn't she? Why do you ask?' 'No reason. I haven't seen her for a while, that's all.' 'That's because you're always bloody well rushing off home, isn't it? Why doesn't Mary come down nowadays?' Connon shrugged. For a second he contemplated offering Arthur a long analysis of the complex of reasons governing his wife's absence. 'Too busy, I expect,' he said. 'I'd better be off. Cheers, Arthur.'

'Cheer-oh.'

The car park was quite full now and his car was almost boxed in. He had once proposed at a committee meeting that the club-house facilities be restricted to those who at least watched the game but this voluntary restriction of revenue had not won much support. Finally he got clear without trouble and drove away into the early darkness of a winter evening. He glanced at his watch and realized just how late he was. He increased his speed slightly. Ahead a traffic light glowed green. It turned to amber when he was about twenty yards away. He pressed hard down on the accelerator and crossed as the amber flicked over to red. There was no danger. There was only one car waiting to cross and it was coming from the right.