‘That thing is this – I realize that my accident was a godsend; it just saved me from making a most calamitous fool of myself. If I’d gone to that inquest and poured out all the hysterical nonsense that I’d bothered you with . . . well, I just don’t know. . . .’

He looked at her steadily, and she forced herself to return his look, keeping her gaze innocent and limpid. When he moved, leaning back in the chair, he said quite lightly:

‘I’m disappointed in you, Miss Mayfield. I thought you were made of sterner stuff. With the martyr’s crown practically on your head, you go and recant. Yes, I’m disappointed.’

Matching his manner, though her whole inside was shaking, she said:

‘Very few martyrs had my chance. A sound clout on the head and a long, long time to think things over; and last, but not least, sound counsel.’

‘I don’t propose to go into this at the moment. You look to me as though you should be in bed. I’ll say that I’m happy to know that you have revised your opinions about poor old Phoebe Rigby.’

‘I certainly shouldn’t have come back here if I hadn’t.’

That was a point to her. ‘No,’ he said, drawing out the word slowly. ‘I don’t suppose you would. In your present condition, a good dose of shingles . . .’ He broke off and laughed. ‘I’ve thought so often about that conversation and come to the conclusion that you missed your mark in life. Novelist manquée. With that knack of creating something sensational out of such mundane stuff, you could have made a fortune. The thing is that such a talent, running disengaged, as it were, can be dangerous.’

‘I know. It was dangerous to me. It almost lost me the best job, the happiest home, the kindest friends I ever had.’

She was astonished at herself. Where was all this inspiration coming from? Now she had him in a most difficult position. He extricated himself smoothly.

‘That brings the future up again; and frankly I don’t think you’re fit for further discussion. Have a good night’s rest and make Berta bring you your breakfast in bed. Perhaps you’d like to lunch with us tomorrow.’

‘Mrs Grieve has already invited me.’

His eyes twinkled.

‘Already? I’m afraid you’ll have a little problem there. Oh, she’s a delightful creature; we’ve known her for years and love her dearly; but she can’t bear to be alone for a moment, and she talks without ceasing. I wonder, having met you, that she hasn’t installed you in her spare room.’ He stood up. ‘Not that that would be such a bad idea. You do look appallingly frail. And, for goodness’ sake, don’t go struggling with crates and things like that.’