The summer-house was perfect from Sheila’s point of view. There was a honeysuckle climbing over it, and the table and basket chairs inside were practically identical to those she had seen used in a dozen films. She thought regretfully that it would have been nice if Richard had arrived on horseback. She always thought men looked their very best on horses. Still, he was good-looking enough to satisfy anybody. The tan he had picked up in the desert suited him. Sheila did not start her big effort with him until the waitress had brought the tea. Then she gave him a carefully planned shy smile.

“Would you like me to pour out? If you’ve been abroad I don’t expect you got much waiting on, did you?”

“Not feminine waiting. I’ve been in the Near East.” Sheila raised eyes rounded with admiration.

“Fancy! Riding on camels and all that?”

Richard looked at her with amused tolerance. He took his cup from her.

“Camels are a bit out of date; but look, you mustn’t talk. You eat all there is on the table.”

Sheila looked at a large plate of bread and, presumably, margarine, and another of the sort of cake that is bought by the yard. She wondered if she dared say she had got past eating, but discarded the thought immediately, seeing the risk of the party coming to an end. A girl who could be bored for months in Worsingfold was not going to see a lot of food, however unpalatable, standing between her and her chances. Metaphorically she threw back her shoulders; actually she moved the muscles of her stomach as if to warn it of what was coming. Systematically she began on what was on the table.

Richard was a most unsatisfactory player in the scene. He was friendly and kind like an elder brother taking a schoolgirl sister out to tea. Not for a second was her plate empty, but not for a second did she hold his interest. His head kept turning to peer out of the cobwebby window; his mind was obviously somewhere else. Sheila, chewing away, decided that she must change her tactics, this hungry schoolgirl act was getting her nowhere. She got her chance when Richard surreptitiously looked at his watch under the table. She laid down what she was eating and half got up.

“Oh, I am sorry . . . I . . . I’m keeping you. I’ve really had quite enough—I’m not a bit hungry now.”

Richard was disgusted with himself. What a bore and a cad he had become! This poor little kid couldn’t know that every second that was not at least travelling towards Barbara seemed time wasted. He gently pushed her back into her seat.

“Go on with your tea. I’m in no hurry.” He smiled as she doubtfully took up her slice of bread. “Tell me about the canteen you’re off to.”

“It’s N.A.A.F.I.”