There was a whirring and the church clock struck the hour. He smiled.

“On the dot, you see. I’m always on the dot, aren’t I, Joe?”

“Punctuality is the politeness of princes,” I said. I looked at his passenger. Good legs. A white trench coat. A blue headscarf. Twenty-six, twenty-eight at the most. It was difficult to tell with the trench coat but she seemed to have firm and high breasts. She smelled pleasant; was it lily-of-the-valley? She was nearly as tall as me; but she wasn’t ashamed of her tallness, she stood up straight. The spine that bears all brightness; the words came back to me and they were the right words; I had not forgotten them but merely put them aside to await their owner. Then, remembering the words, I remembered their owner: she was the girl I’d noticed last Sunday at St. Alfred’s. Now that I could look at her properly, I could see that I had had no alternative but to notice her. At long last I’d met an adult woman again.

“This is Joe Lampton,” Brown said. “Joe, Norah Hauxley.”

“How do you do?” I put out my hand.

“Mrs. Hauxley’s from the Teddersford News,” Brown inter­jected as excusing himself.

She smiled. “Mr. Brown tells me you’ve come all the way from London today, Mr. Lampton.”

I held her hand longer than I should have done; I wanted to be as near her as possible. Her smile didn’t break her face up, but belonged to it; and now, I thought, I was finished. I let go her hand. I was finished because I wanted to give myself to her here and now on any terms, I wanted to be drawn into her tranquil­lity. I had known it was impossible when I first saw her on Sun­day. Mrs. Hauxley; a young married woman, apparently child­less, apparently not long married. It was impossible, no good would ever come of it.

“My father-in-law keeps me hard at it,” I said.

“He’ll be grateful to me one day,” Brown said. He turned to Mrs. Hauxley. “We’ll have to leave you now, Mrs. Hauxley. Coun­cil business.”

He nodded towards the grimy stone façade of the club. “More gets done there than at the Town Hall, you know. But don’t quote me!”

“Thank you again,” she said. “I’ll send you the proofs. Good­bye, Mr. Brown. Goodbye, Mr. Lampton.”

At the top of the steps we watched her walk away.

“Lovely girl, that,” Brown said. “See how she carries herself.” He pushed open the swing door. “Teeth a bit too big though.”

“She seems a very pretty girl to me.”