“My car’s that way,” he said, falling into step beside her.

They had to maneuver around several obstructing vehicles. Always he politely stood back, deferring for her to go first, and never once reached for her hand or her arm on the pretense of helping her, not even when they had to go over a cross street. Wisconsin Avenue was brightly lit compared to the side roads and very busy, cars and people ebbing and flowing in both directions and with shops and bars and cafes open on either side. Sheridan turned towards M Street and announced: “No cabs.”

Jane looked towards the deserted rank and said: “They’re along here all the time.”

She started down towards the intersection and again he went with her. At the junction they looked both ways along M Street: there wasn’t anywhere a taxi showing a for hire light.

“Not really your night,” he said.

“It won’t take long, really.”

“Would you like a drink?”

Janet had been expecting such an approach from the moment he began walking with her and had the polite refusal already rehearsed, work she had to do at home, which wasn’t actually a lie because Monday’s lecture-the slide of the Lebanon into utter anarchy-was still only half written. She saw from the clock in the bank window behind him that it wasn’t yet eight. She said: “Thank you,” not knowing why she’d accepted.

“I don’t know Georgetown particularly well,” he said.

“There’s Nathan’s,” she said, nodding across the road.

He stood away from her while they waited for the lights and made no move to cup her arm when they went over. As he held back for her to enter the bar Janet saw three cabs in convoy coming from the city, their flags lit. Nathan’s was crowded, but as they entered two people got up from a table near the door, so they were seated immediately. She asked for scotch and he said he’d have the same. When he came back with the drinks he said: “Cheers.” Janet said “Cheers” back, unsure what would happen next.