I had heard one of the doctors say that Lieutenant Evanson had been returned to duty too soon, before the psychological effects of his first crash had worn off. But they were desperate for experienced pilots and he'd been eager to rejoin his flight.

"As we'd thought. The Army has supplied the particulars, but not in such detail. To the next question. You only saw Mrs. Evanson and the officer together for a brief moment. Do you think that this man might be the father of her child?"

I knew what he was asking: if not, did she have other lovers? I didn't want to believe that of her. But then I really knew nothing about her.

I pictured her again in my mind's eye. If I'd been touched by her anguish, why hadn't he? How had he managed to remain indifferent? Could that mean she'd only just told him her news? There at the station, where they were surrounded by strangers? She might have lost her nerve earlier, or been afraid that he wouldn't allow her to come to see him off.

I remembered a detail that I hadn't put in my letter. When he bent to kiss her on the cheek, she hadn't responded. She hadn't put her hand up to his face or turned to kiss him. It was as if he hadn't quite known how to walk away from her. And she had been numb, the perfunctory kiss a gesture on his part that she barely felt. That could mean he'd just made it clear that for him the affair was over. What if her distress was her bitter realization that he would do nothing to help her now, even if he knew about the child?

I took a deep breath. "It would be easy to read into what I saw all sorts of explanations that very likely weren't there. At a guess, there was more estrangement between them than passion. That's why I felt at the time that she never expected to see him again."