‘Protected against anybody who for any reason, for—any—reason, might land us in trouble. And the funny thing was that the two float chambers weren’t identical in shape.’

‘Identical in shape?’ Charles murmured in bewilderment.

‘No, but they seemed to work all right. Gave a very good mixture. But it surprised me when I first saw them.’

Charles realized that a man in a bowler hat had sat down within earshot of their conversation. One had to admire Bunder for some things. At least he was a perfect specimen of adaptation to a particular end. One could imagine him as a baby leaning out of his perambulator to steal a fruit drop and putting the blame on his little sister.

They walked out of the bar and set off in different directions.

‘Look, don’t let’s dance,’ he said. ‘Let’s sit down.’

‘You’re looking terribly tired, my poor thing,’ she said. ‘Are you ill or something?’

‘No, not ill. Just a bit tired.’

‘I’m sure you’re ill. Either that or terribly worried about some­thing. Please, please, dear, why don’t you tell me?’

‘Tell you what?’ he said.

She frowned. ‘I shall lose my temper. You’ll make me lose my temper. Why do you hide so much from me?’

He was at a loss. She had become, of late, so much a part of him that it was increasingly difficult to hide the slightest corner of his mind from her knowledge. Normally it did not matter, since, when they were together, everything else was banished, and there was nothing he could not fully and frankly reveal to her. But the interview with Bunder had shaken him.

‘Oh, my darling,’ she said sadly. ‘Why do you pretend so hard that you love me, when it’s obvious all along that you can’t if you don’t trust me?’

‘I do love you,’ he muttered earnestly. ‘And I do trust you. It’s just that there are some things I don’t want to burden you with.’

She looked at him with astonishment.

‘How can you say that? Don’t you know that when a woman loves a man she wants everything, everything about him, including what you call burdens—yes, especially those: can’t you see that the only burden to her is to feel that he’s keeping something from her?’

‘Will you marry me?’ he said abruptly.

She drew in her breath sharply, as if to speak with vehemence, but was silent.

‘I said, will you marry me?’ he said again, flatly and without emphasis. The waiter heard him and moved discreetly away.

‘Would you mind not asking me that, not just at present?’ she said slowly.

‘But Veronica, for God’s sake, why not?’

‘There are things,’ she said, still slowly, and with eyes fixed on the stem of her glass. ‘Things you don’t know about.’