“Pull in,” he ordered, and when she hesitated he roared: “Now!” and steered towards the smaller car. She pulled in quickly but did not jolt the car; nor did she stall the engine. He drew so close that the cars were almost touching before he went on: “Now, what is it all about?”

She would probably lie.

He noticed one man farther along the street, and two women at different windows, watching; each had no doubt noticed the way he had forced the girl into the kerb.

She stared at him, and he at her, each framed in an open car window. She had the most beautiful golden brown eyes, something he hadn’t been able to see from the flat window, and a superb complexion. He thought he read fear in her eyes, and began to wonder how best to ease that fear at least enough to make her talk, when she said:

“I can’t believe it.”

She had a pleasant voice, English as a summer meadow.

“What can’t you believe?” he asked, trying not to be too accusing.

“You are even more handsome than they told me,” she declared.

He stared. She smiled, tremulously. He snorted, and then, unable to help himself, began to utter a deep throated chuckle; immediately relief showed in her eyes, and she relaxed too.

“You are more handsome,” she asserted.

“I can’t tell you how proud I am,” Rollison said, and chuckled again. “You are much prettier than you looked from my flat window.”

“You saw me?”

“You intended me to see you,” he stated flatly.

Earnestly, and putting a hand towards him as if to touch his face, she said in that sweet-sounding voice: