She glanced upwards at the clock.
"Do come," he said, half turning to lead the way. "There's a Lyons just near here."
"Oh, well ..." she laughed and followed him.
"My name's Quain," he said, as they were drinking their cups of tea. "Humphrey Quain." He waited longingly, hoping that she would understand why he had told her his name.
She drooped her eyes; everything she did was exaggerated in Humphrey's imagination. She gave him her name as if she were yielding up part of herself to him.
"Mine is Filmer."
It was terribly unsatisfactory just to know that.
"I suppose you'll think me rude..." he began.