Five minutes later she poked her head into the room. Joyce was sitting bolt upright in a chair. She was not crying.

‘It’s your gentleman, miss. Shall I send him up?’

A sudden light came into Joyce’s eyes.

‘Yes, please. I’d like to see him.’

Halliday came in boisterously.

‘Well, here we are. I haven’t lost much time, have I? I’m prepared to carry you off from this dreadful place here and now. You can’t stay here. Come on, get your things on.’

‘There’s no need, Arthur.’

‘No need? What do you mean?’

‘Terry’s dead. I don’t need to marry you now.’

‘What are you talking about?’

‘My dog–Terry. He’s dead. I was only marrying you so that we could be together.’

Halliday stared at her, his face growing redder and redder. ‘You’re mad.’

‘I dare say. People who love dogs are.’

‘You seriously tell me that you were only marrying me because–Oh, it’s absurd!’

‘Why did you think I was marrying you? You knew I hated you.’

‘You were marrying me because I could give you a jolly good time–and so I can.’

‘To my mind,’ said Joyce, ‘that is a much more revolting motive than mine. Anyway, it’s off. I’m not marrying you!’

‘Do you realize that you are treating me damned badly?’

She looked at him coolly but with such a blaze in her eyes that he drew back before it.

‘I don’t think so. I’ve heard you talk about getting a kick out of life. That’s what you got out of me–and my dislike of you heightened it. You knew I hated you and you enjoyed it. When I let you kiss me yesterday, you were disappointed because I didn’t flinch or wince. There’s something brutal in you, Arthur, something cruel–something that likes hurting…Nobody could treat you as badly as you deserve. And now do you mind getting out of my room? I want it to myself.’

He spluttered a little.

‘Wh–what are you going to do? You’ve no money.’

‘That’s my business. Please go.’

‘You little devil. You absolutely maddening little devil. You haven’t done with me yet.’

Joyce laughed.

The laugh routed him as nothing else had done. It was so unexpected. He went awkwardly down the stairs and drove away.

Joyce heaved a sigh. She pulled on her shabby black felt hat and in her turn went out. She walked along the streets mechanically, neither thinking nor feeling. Somewhere at the back of her mind there was pain–pain that she would presently feel, but for the moment everything was mercifully dulled.

She passed the Registry Office and hesitated.