They walked to the railway station, the three of them, with these thoughts and possibilities somewhat strangled by the need for pacifying Gerald. He made a scene on the platform, clinging to Leni’s hand and refusing to budge. “Good-bye,” said David, harassed by all this, as he leaned out of the window when the struggle was over. “Good-bye — and good luck about the job …” Something in her eyes made him add, as the guard began whistling: “By the way, if it doesn’t come off — the job, I mean …” Then the train began to move. “Well, write and let me know,” he added, lamely.

She didn’t have to write and let him know. Jessica wrote. Jessica, in fact, handled the situation as she always handled situations — masterfully, with a fine eye for essentials and a bold seizure of opportunities. She was a shrewd woman, and after Gerald’s successive Fridays at Sandmouth and his delighted chatter about them, it did not take her long to realize that whatever had happened there had been fortunate. In her remarkably efficient way she wished well to the boy, though the well-wishing hardly lessened her impatience of his tantrums. If someone else had both the knack and the inclination to deal with them, then by all means let it happen. “Who is this woman who looks after Gerald when you’re in Sandmouth?” she asked David.

David had acquired a habit of reticence about his patients’ private affairs, added to which there was the vagueness that existed in his own mind when he asked himself who Leni was. Come to think about it, he simply didn’t know.

“She’s just a patient of mine — she broke her wrist.”

“Is she a lady?”

David wondered, not so much whether she was or not, as whether Jessica would think her one or not. At length he said: “Oh yes, I should say she is.”

“Living by herself?”

“Yes.”

“What sort of family?”

“She hasn’t any.”

“Of course not, silly, if she lives by herself. I meant what kind of family does she come from?”

“I don’t know — I really don’t know much about her affairs.”

“Is she well off?”

“Oh no, on the contrary — in fact —”

“In fact, you’ve already decided not to send her a bill — I thought as much!”

“No, no — I was going to say that she’s quite poorly off — at the moment she’s trying to find work.”

“She wants a job, then? I suppose she’s presentable in appearance?”

“Presentable?”

“Oh, you wouldn’t notice, would you? You never do notice the most obvious things about people. What I’m really wondering is if she’d come here to help with Gerald.”

“You mean to live here?”

“Why not, if she wants something to do?”

“Well …”

“You don’t think she’d come?”

“I don’t know … I hadn’t ever thought about it.”

“My dear David, you never think of anything. Give me her address and I’ll write to her.”