Caroline walked toward the door, but before she reached it, she hesitated, turned, and spoke in a rush. “I read an article in the New Left last month about women in politics—that was by you, wasn’t it?” Lindsay nodded. “I didn’t think there could be two of you with the same name. I enjoyed it very much. I was especially interested, you see, because I might go into politics myself after university. It’s rather given me a boost to realize that there are other women out there with the same sort of worries.”

Lindsay finally managed to get her brain into gear. “Thanks. Which party do you favor, by the way?”

Caroline looked extremely embarrassed, shifting from one foot to the other. “Actually, I’m a socialist,” she said. “It’s something of a dirty word round here. I just think that things ought to be changed—to be fairer. You know?”

Half an hour later, Lindsay felt she had been put through an intellectual mangle. Never at her best in the morning, she had had to struggle to keep one step ahead of Caroline’s endless stream of questions and dogmatic statements about everything from student politics to the position of women in Nicaragua. Trying to explain that things were never as simple as they seemed without bruising the girl’s idealism or patronizing her had not been easy, and Lindsay wished they’d been having the conversation over a cup of coffee after dinner, the time of day when she felt at her most alert. Finally, the buzz of a bell made Caroline start as she realized that this was neither the time nor place for such a discussion.

“Oh help,” she exclaimed, leaping off the end of the bed where she had settled herself, “that’s the breakfast bell. I must run. You don’t have to worry—staff breakfast is pretty flexible, and Miss Callaghan’s waiting to take you across. Blame me if she moans on at you about being late—I’m always in trouble for talking too much. See you later.”

“Thanks for the tea, and the chat. Oh, and the use of your room. Maybe we’ll have the chance to talk again. And if we don’t, enjoy the weekend anyway,” said Lindsay, wondering to herself how quickly she could manage to wash and dress. She almost missed Caroline’s words as she dashed through the door.

“Sure. But don’t ask me to join the fan club for our concert star.” And she was gone, her footsteps joining the general background clamor that the bell had released.