"I say ..." Humphrey began, "it's awfully rude of me to stop you like this...."
She smiled again. "Not at all," she said, in a gentle voice.
"Could you tell me if Mr Beaver happens to be in the office now?" he asked.
"I don't think he is," she said. "Why not come up and see?"
"N—no—it doesn't really matter." Humphrey laughed nervously. "I shall see him this evening. We dig together, you know."
"Then it doesn't matter...?" she said.
"It doesn't matter," Humphrey agreed.
He waited forlornly: now she would pass away again, always elusive, just flitting in and out of his life like this, a disturbing factor.
But still she waited, and Humphrey was emboldened.
"I say ..." he stammered. "Won't you come and have a cup of tea?"