“You’re not due to leave until tomorrow,” she said. Her expression now was one of suspicion.

She was wearing a navy blue dress; when she lifted her hand to adjust her spectacles I could see a patch of sweat at the armpit. She wasn’t bad-looking; but her face was too tired and her hair too mousy.

“I finished my business earlier than expected,” I said. “So I’m returning to the cool breezes of the north.”

She didn’t take any notice of this; but the suspicion now, I fancied, was specific; I wanted to abduct her. I mopped my face; the handkerchief was soaked with sweat, and it didn’t help very much.

“I’m afraid you’ll have to pay the full amount, sir. It’s most clearly stated—”

“Yes, yes. Of course. Just give me my bill, please.”

I thought of the train journey ahead of me and for a moment was tempted to change my mind. I didn’t really care about pay­ing thirty shillings for a room I wouldn’t use; but it seemed a shame to give whoever owned the hotel a double profit. For, what­ever the receptionist might say, my room wouldn’t go begging tonight. London was full as it always was. And Jean was back in Kensington, having just taken a small part in a revue. I’d taken Tiffield to see the revue last night; Jean had been given a solo spot, a song about, as far as I could gather, the crying need for men who could do it more than once a night. Remembering the song and Jean’s costume I felt the city and the summer bearing down upon me; the strip clubs, the whores, the couples in Hyde Park, the girls in bikinis at the Lido, all added up to one thing, and I wasn’t feeling so pleased with Susan that I was disposed to refuse the invitation which was now being made to me.

“We can’t possibly fill the room at such short notice, you see,” the receptionist said. “At this season we can fill the hotel twice over but people don’t expect there to be any vacant rooms tonight.”

“Naturally,” I said. The sweat seemed to be stinging my eyes; I took out the clean handkerchief from my breast pocket.

“It’s the rules,” she said, and began to make out the bill.

I looked at the notice on the wall to my right. There seemed to be a great many things one wasn’t allowed to do in the hotel. There was a notice by the lift for good measure.

“You’re certainly not short of rules,” I said. I took out my cheque book.

“Would you mind putting your address on the back, sir?”

“If it makes you happy,” I said.

She smiled. “It’s the rules, sir, not me.”