‘Impossible to say exactly. I must make a proper examination. You must leave him here.’

‘Oh! I can’t.’

‘I’m afraid you must. I must take him below. I’ll telephone you in–say–half an hour.’

Sick at heart, Joyce gave in. She kissed Terry on his nose. Blind with tears, she stumbled down the steps. The man who had helped her was still there. She had forgotten him.

‘The taxi’s still here. I’ll take you back.’ She shook her head.

‘I’d rather walk.’

‘I’ll walk with you.’

He paid off the taxi. She was hardly conscious of him as he walked quietly by her side without speaking. When they arrived at Mrs Barnes’, he spoke.

‘Your wrist. You must see to it.’

She looked down at it.

‘Oh! That’s all right.’

‘It wants properly washing and tying up. I’ll come in with you.’

He went with her up the stairs. She let him wash the place and bind it up with a clean handkerchief. She only said one thing.

‘Terry didn’t mean to do it. He would never, never mean to do it. He just didn’t realize it was me. He must have been in dreadful pain.’

‘I’m afraid so, yes.’

‘And perhaps they’re hurting him dreadfully now?’

‘I’m sure that everything that can be done for him is being done. When the vet rings up, you can go and get him and nurse him here.’

‘Yes, of course.’

The man paused, then moved towards the door.

‘I hope it will be all right,’ he said awkwardly. ‘Goodbye.’

‘Goodbye.’

Two or three minutes later it occurred to her that he had been kind and that she had never thanked him.

Mrs Barnes appeared, cup in hand.

‘Now, my poor lamb, a cup of hot tea. You’re all to pieces, I can see that.’

‘Thank you, Mrs Barnes, but I don’t want any tea.’

‘It would do you good, dearie. Don’t take on so now. The doggie will be all right and even if he isn’t that gentleman of yours will give you a pretty new dog–’

‘Don’t, Mrs Barnes. Don’t. Please, if you don’t mind, I’d rather be left alone.’

‘Well, I never–there’s the telephone.’

Joyce sped down to it like an arrow. She lifted the receiver. Mrs Barnes panted down after her. She heard Joyce say, ‘Yes–speaking. What? Oh! Oh! Yes. Yes, thank you.’

She put back the receiver. The face she turned to Mrs Barnes startled that good woman. It seemed devoid of any life or expression.

‘Terry’s dead, Mrs Barnes,’ she said. ‘He died alone there without me.’

She went upstairs and, going into her room, shut the door very decisively.

‘Well, I never,’ said Mrs Barnes to the hall wallpaper.