‘Yes?’ he said, when she stopped short.

‘You said, when we were at the wapentake, that you didn’t think I could say anything to—I don’t remember the exact phrase—’

‘To hurt or offend me? Something like that was it? It is true.’

‘I was going to ask, then, if the change of pigmentation would be enough to convince people, supposing the features were still markedly European. And then I saw that your features, Dr Natouche, are not at all—’

‘Negroid?’

‘Yes. But perhaps Ethiopians—one is so ignorant.’

‘You must remember I am a half-caste. My facial structures are those of my mother, I believe.’

‘Yes, of course,’ Troy said. ‘Of course.’

The waiter brought their drinks and the wine list and menu and hard on his heels came Sir Leslie and Lady Fergus.

They were charming and the luncheon party was a success but somehow neither Troy nor her host got round to asking Sir Leslie if he could shed any light on the darkening by scientific methods of the pigmentation of the skin.

III

Troy returned to the Zodiac, rested, changed and was taken in a taxi by Caley Bard to dinner with champagne at another hotel.

‘I’m not ‘alf going it,’ she thought and wondered what her husband would have to say about these jaunts.

When they had dined she and Bard walked about Longminster and finally strolled back to The River at half past ten.

The Zodiac was berthed romantically in a bend of The River from which one could see the Long Minster itself against the stars. The lights of the old city quavered and zig-zagged with those of other craft in the black night waters. Troy and Bard could hear quiet voices in the saloon but they loitered on the deserted deck and before she could do anything about it Bard had kissed Troy.

‘You’re adorable,’ he said.

‘Ah, get along with you. Goodnight, and thank you for a nice party.’

‘Don’t go away.’

‘I think I must.’

‘Couldn’t we have a lovely, fairly delicate little affair? Please?’

‘We could not,’ said Troy.

‘I’ve fallen for you in a bloody big way. Don’t laugh at me.’

‘I’m not. But I’m not going to pursue the matter. Don’t you, either.’

‘Well, I can’t say you’ve led me on. You don’t know a garden path when you see one.’

‘I wouldn’t say as much for you.’

‘I like that! What cheek!’

‘Look,’ Troy said, ‘who’s here.’

It was the Hewsons. They had arrived on the wharf in a taxi and were hung about with strange parcels. Miss Hewson seemed to be in a state of exalted fatigue and her brother in a state of exhausted resignation.

‘Boy, oh boy!’ he said.