She took the raincoat from me, shook it out at the door and hung it over a chair in front of the fire.

“So I see. Take off your shoes.”

“They’re quite dry,” I said, overtaken by an odd panic.

“Take them off.” She held out her hand. “They’re sodden. You are an idiot, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” I said. “I shouldn’t come here at this hour.”

She took the shoes from me and began to stuff them with newspaper. “You shouldn’t have come here at all,” she said. “Not by yourself.”

“There wasn’t any reply when I phoned you yesterday,” I said.

“I told you I wouldn’t be back until late. Why didn’t you phone me tonight?”

“It wouldn’t have done,” I said.

“Why? And for heaven’s sake look at my face.”

“I will in a moment,” I said. “But I don’t want to talk just now.”

“You really are the strangest man I ever met. You come burst­ing in on me at ten o’clock, soaking wet, then you don’t want to talk but to stare at my midriff. Can’t you bear looking at my face?”

I rose and went to the dormer window. I parted the curtains a little; it was still raining and the street was empty. Over the roofs of the houses opposite I could see the spire of St. Alfred’s. I had not seen it from that angle before; for a moment I didn’t recognize it. And from here the street itself was different, its red brick more mellow in colour, the unbroken parapet line seem­ing the consequence of a desire to please the eye rather than the necessity to cram the maximum amount of houses into the space available.

I went back to my chair. It was a long time since I’d been in a room like this, since I’d had threadbare carpet and dark stained deal planks under my feet.

The furniture was all dark and massive: a double-doored ward­robe, a chest of drawers which reached nearly to the ceil­ing, a table which took up a quarter of the floor-space, two arm­chairs and a sofa covered in greasy looking black leather. It was an oppressively ugly room; but now it was the one place where I wanted to be.

“Have you seen everything?” Norah asked. “There’s a bath­room and a bedroom, too, and a kitchen. Don’t miss those.”

I lifted my head. “It would be nice if you’d just let me sit here. I don’t want to talk.”

She came over to me and sniffed. “You’ve had something to drink but you’re not drunk. What is it? Are you in trouble?”

“Not now,” I said.

“Do you want a drink?”

I shrugged my shoulders.