Fielding got up, and came round behind her chair. “I'm going to ring for Jenner to bring in the next course,” he said, laying his hands on her shoulders. “But first I must kiss you.”

She raised her face, and as he bent over her put her hand to caress his lean cheek. “How many girls have you kissed, like that?” she asked, when she was able.

“Crowds,” he said, laughing.

She smiled, but said seriously: “I expect that's true. You were keen on Betty Mason before you thought of me, weren't you?”

“Never!”

“Oh, I'm not throwing a jealous fit,” Stella assured him. “You needn't mind admitting it. I think you're rather the type that can't help making love to girls who aren't actually cross-eyed or hare-Tipped. I shall probably have an awful time with you when we're married.”

“It sounds as though it's I who will have the awful time,” he replied teasingly.

“Well, I must say I shouldn't like it if you got off with anyone else now that you're engaged to me,” admitted Stella.

“I'll watch my step,” he promised, walking over to the bell and setting his finger on it.

Jenner's entrance put an end to the conversation. He brought word of two patients awaiting the doctor in the surgery.

“Who are they?” asked Fielding.

“Young Jones, sir, and Mrs Thomas about her little girl's leg.”

“Oh, well, tell them I don't see patients until two o'clock. Put the clocks back, or something.”

“Very good, sir.”

“Don't think you've got to stay here because of me,” said Stella. “I'm just going anyway.”

“It's nobody who matters,” he said lightly.

Stella looked at him with a hint of austerity in her candid eyes. “You don't only care about the people who matter, do you, Deryk?”

“Of course not, but there's nothing urgent about these cases. Have some more cream?”