He wished ardently that Christina were at home. She was adept at the sweet dispatch of lingering visitors. Pleasant as it was to talk and listen to Stephanie, he had to consider the length of her journey home and the fact that it was already quite late.

“Do you go from Victoria?” he asked, crudely.

She looked reluctantly at the clock. “As a matter of fact I came to Charing Cross,” she said.

“Tattenham Corner line, and change. All right. I’ll bring the car round.”

“Oh no—please don’t bother,” she said, embarrassed. “I came on the tube to Camden Town. It’s only a little way.”

“Not so little. And why walk?”

“But you mustn’t,” she protested, not very convincingly. He ignored this, and went out to the hall. As he lifted her coat from the peg he saw his glove lying on the table. Thoughtfully he picked it up.

“Are you going out like that?”

He turned round. She had followed him out of the room, and was regarding him with an air of incredulous delight. He became aware of his gaudy Truffaldino clothes.

“No one will see,” he said, holding the coat for her, not too close to him, but on the other hand not too far away.

“But won’t you be cold?” She slipped her arms into the sleeves, and raised a hand to flick her hair free of the collar; not quite succeeding, so that a few strands clung like cobwebs to the downy material and straggled in an untidy loop across her shoulder. Brett managed to resist the temptation to set this to rights. Her hair was very pretty, evenly fair, glittering in its cleanness. There was no wave to it, as there had been in Christina’s when she let it down. The switch hung straight, marked only by the tiny kinks which constant plaiting imparts.

Brett rather absently unhooked a thick shapeless cardigan and put it on, following it by his coat. “At least,” he said, “I have my glove now.” He held it on the palm of his hand. “How did you do it?”

“What?” she parried.

“Get hold of it, know it was mine, find out where to bring it, everything. I’m just curious.”

“I found it this morning. After you’d gone, about half an hour after, I had to dust the glass shelf in that case, Did you notice there was a patch of dust on it? No, I didn’t think anyone would, except Mr. Emmanuel. Anyway I knelt down to open the back of the case and put my duster on the floor, and when I picked it up I saw the edge of the glove sticking out by the leg of the case. It must have fallen off the top and got kicked under either by me or Mr. Emmanuel. There’s only about four inches between the bottom of the case and the carpet. You couldn’t have seen it lying there.”

“How did you know it was mine?”