He guided me along the narrow lanes of the village. “Will I ever find my way back to the main road?” I wondered.

“Where do you live?”

“Alver Shore.”

He whistled through his teeth. “Oh, no, no, no. I can’t direct you to Alver Shore. Turn right here, please.”

“Why not?” I did as he said, finding myself on a tree-shaded drive that was none too well paved.

“You’re far too beautiful and chic to live there. Get your vicar man to find another church. The one here in the village, for example. Then I could come down from London and paint you every weekend. Clothed, obviously. I’ve got no experience with the female form. Trained as I am in depicting only—”

“Men in the nip!”

The drive opened out into the forecourt of a huge brick house. I came to a halt. A man in a broad-brimmed hat was loading sheets of glass onto a handcart with immense care.

“Oh, Mr. Kennet’s already started. Listen, Yvette. Could you sit for me at Ma and Pa’s? So I can do a portrait? Ma won’t mind in the least. Please say you’ll do it.”

“How old are you?” I asked him.

“Twenty-two. Why?”

Only five years younger than me, but because of those five years he had fought no battles, he mourned no one, he had nothing to atone for. He was freshly made for this new world we lived in. The gap between us made me dizzy.

“Look,” he said, when I didn’t reply. “I must get puttying. But please think about it. I don’t need paying. I’m desperate for subjects.”

“I don’t know . . .” I shifted my hands on the wheel. “I mean, yes, I would like to. At least, I think so.”

He nodded, smiling with his lips closed. They curved up at the corners. “You’re allowed to think about it. You think a lot about everything.”

“I have a lot to think about.”

“I know.”

He said it lightly, already turning his head, opening the car door, so that if I wanted to, I could pretend I hadn’t heard him.

“Thank you—” I blurted as he got out, and he waved his hand. I watched him hurry toward the man in the hat, shrugging his shoulders, tilting his head at the car, no doubt saying, I got a lift, but honestly, she went so slowly . . .