Alice gave him the faintest smile, but it was enough to make his heart swell as he thought of Howie, and all the soldiers who were counting on their books.

“Which other books will your council send?” she asked.

“Some of the council members lobbied to send lesser-known authors and titles, but we decided to send a mix of fiction and nonfiction, classics and debuts. One title is The Great Gatsby—do you know it?”

“Yes, it’s Fitzgerald, isn’t it?”

“Let me think, who else is coming out in September. . . . Ogden Nash and John Steinbeck. Then there’s The Ship by C. S. Forester, and of course your very own Graham Greene.”

“Oh, which one?” she asked, with an interest so genuine it lit up her entire face.

“The Ministry of Fear.”

It was at that point he remembered he still hadn’t told her about Virginia, and the fact that he had kept his engagement hidden worried him. But he couldn’t just tell her out of the blue—he’d have to bring it up at a more appropriate time.

He focused back on their conversation and said, “Who else? Let’s see . . . Ethel Vance, Joseph Conrad; there are thirty books each month—”

“Gosh, it sounds as if you’ve done a very good job. No wonder they sent you here to organize us too.”

“How am I doing so far?” he asked, smiling at her.

“Not too bad. Although I’m not sure if the titles we’re working on would compare to any of those. They don’t exactly inspire the same level of bravery, even if they do count as propaganda!”

This wasn’t the first time Theo had noticed how she understood concepts and ideas that he had to dissect for Virginia. Alice had an instinct, an acutely tuned emotional intelligence, which was why she’d become indispensable to Partridge.

“So,” he said, “you see the business sense in the ASEs, even though they’re free?”

“Yes, of course. You’re building a whole new market for when the war is over.”

“Yes! Men who’ve never picked up a book before, they’re reading them in their bunks and shelters. We’ve opened up a new world to them. And when they come home . . .”

“They’ll want to carry on reading.”

“Exactly. So, you can see why this is so important in the long-term.”

She frowned, eyes crinkling in a way he’d grown strangely fond of. “Then why doesn’t Walter approve?”

“He thinks once they’re available for free no one will want to pay for them. Ridiculous, I know, but between you and me, he can be a bit of a snob; he thinks that books should be for academics or entertainment, not for propaganda.”

“Oh, I see,” she said, frowning again. “How strange that he can’t see how well placed Partridge will be to supply books in the United States once the war is over.”