"Phil, I've gone and fallen for a married woman." There was a silence.
"No! — strike me blind!" said Sharpless, lifting his right hand as though to take an oath, and drawing back a little. "I mean it. It's serious. It's the real thing."
His voice was still a fierce whisper. Horizontal wrinkles furrowed his forehead.
"But that would…" Courtney began. "Staff College," he added warningly.
"Yes! It'd play the devil! Don't I know it? But I can't help it, and that's all there is about h!"
"Who is she?"
"Victoria Fane, her name is. Vicky. They live in Fitzherbert Avenue too. Big, white, square house, set back from the road; you can't miss it as you go by. She's got a swine of a husband who swindles people under the guise of a solicitor. God, Phil, she's wonderful. I won't want to bore you with all this…"
"You're not boring me. You know that. Go on."
Sharpless drew a deep breath. "I was out there to dinner last night. I'm going again tonight."
"Dinner on two successive nights?"