‘I’ve time to speak to him before I see her,’ thought the Colonel. ‘But I’ll leave it here in case we don’t meet.’ He posted his long envelope in Mr Phinn’s front door and then greatly troubled in spirit he made for the River Path and went down into the valley, the old spaniel, Skip, walking at his heels.

Nurse Kettle, looking through the drawing-room window at Uplands, caught sight of the Colonel before he disappeared beyond Commander Syce’s spinney. She administered a final tattoo with the edges of her muscular hands on Commander Syce’s lumbar muscles, and said: ‘There goes the Colonel for the evening rise. You wouldn’t have stood that amount of punishment two days ago, would you?’

‘No,’ a submerged voice said, ‘I suppose not.’

‘Well! So that’s all I get for my trouble.’

‘No, no! Look here, look here!’ he gabbled, twisting his head in an attempt to see her. ‘Good heavens! What are you saying?’

‘All right. I know. I was only pulling your leg. There!’ she said. ‘That’s all for today and I fancy it won’t be long now before I wash my hands of you altogether.’

‘Of course I can’t expect to impose on your kindness any longer.’

Nurse Kettle was clearing up. She appeared not to hear this remark and presently bustled away to wash her hands. When she returned Syce was sitting on the edge of his improvised bed. He wore slacks, a shirt, a scarf and a dressing-gown.

‘Jolly D.,’ said Nurse Kettle. ‘Done it all yourself.’

‘I hope you will give me the pleasure of joining me for a drink before you go.’

‘On duty?’

‘Isn’t it off duty, now?’

‘Well,’ said Nurse Kettle, ‘I’ll have a drink with you but I hope it won’t mean that when I’ve gone on me way rejoicing you’re going to have half a dozen more with yourself.’

Commander Syce turned red and muttered something about a fellah having nothing better to do.

‘Get along,’ said Nurse Kettle, ‘find something better. The idea!’

They had their drinks, looking at each other with an air of comradeship. Commander Syce, using a walking-stick and holding himself at an unusual angle, got out an album of photographs taken when he was on the active list in the navy. Nurse Kettle adored photographs and was genuinely interested in a long sequence of naval vessels, odd groups of officers and views of seaports. Presently she turned a page and discovered quite a dashing watercolour of a corvette and then an illustrated menu with lively little caricatures in the margin. These she greatly admired and observing a terrified and defiant expression on the face of her host, ejaculated: ‘You never did these yourself! You did! Well, aren’t you the clever one!’