“Doesn't it?” she demanded eagerly. “Tell me I'm a brilliant detective, William! You must take me into partnership-I'll find the theories to fit all your cases. Then you can go and find the evidence to prove them.” “A wonderful idea,” he said with a laugh. “Would you like dinner on it?” “Yes, Yes I would. With champagne.” She looked around at the brightly lit street with its inviting windows. “Where shall we dine? Please let us make it somewhere exciting, disreputable and utterly delicious. I'm sure you must know such a place.”

He probably had, before his accident. Now he could only guess. He must not take her where she could be bored, or where anything would happen which would embarrass or disgust her. And of course he could hardly expect Callandra to pay the bill for this. For a start, she would disapprove. She would consider it a betrayal of Hester, no matter how absurd that was. And it was absurd. His relationship with Hester was not one of choice but of circumstances which had thrown them together. There was no romance in it, only a kind of cooperation in certain areas-almost a business relationship, one might say.

Drusilla was waiting, her face full of expectancy.

“Of course,” he agreed, not daring to expose his ignorance. “A little further along.” With any luck, he would see something within the next two or three hundred yards. It was an excellent area for cafes, taverns and coffeehouses.

“Wonderful,” she said happily, turning to walk forward again. “You know, I am really hungry. How unladylike of me to admit it. That's another thing about this evening I enjoy so much. I can be hungry! I can even drink what I please. Perhaps I shan't have champagne. Perhaps I shall have stout. Or porter.”

They had an excellent meal at a tavern where the landlord told mildly bawdy jokes and laughed uproariously, and one of the regular customers lampooned various politicians and members of the royal family. The atmosphere was homely and warm and a multitude of odors, almost all of them pleasant, wrapped them round in an island from all the day-to-day reality of their separate worlds.

Afterwards they walked nearly to the end of the street back to Soho Square before picking up a hansom to take her home, and from there he could take it on to Fitzroy Street himself.

He realized with surprise he had no idea where she lived, and he was interested when she gave the driver an address on the edge of Mayfair. They sat close together in the alternating darkness and light as they bowled along Oxford Street westwards, then turned left down North Audley Street.