"A station buffet at Edinburgh!" she said. "A station platform! A train tearing through the blackout, with you two," her voice strengthened, "kissing and swearing you loved each other. Martin! Lots and lots of people have had adventures like that"
Martin Drake's face was white. Ruth, with her consummate tact should have noticed this.
"It wasn't an adventure," he said quietly.
"No. Of course not I didn't mean that Only — suppose you do find her, and she's married?"
"Curiously enough," retorted the other, with a brief return to his mocking air, "that possibility had occurred to me in the course of three years, one month, and five days." He lifted his shoulders. "What could I do? Murder the husband?"
"Well, but… suppose she's engaged. What would you do then?"
"Try to cut him out," Drake answered instantly. "Not that I could, probably. But—" he lifted a clenched fist, dropped it, and then cleared his throat—"use every trick, fair or unfair, to cut the swine out and get her back again. That needn't lead as far as murder, of course."
There was a silence. Still Ruth did not look round. The doubt the indecision in her eyes, had grown stronger.
"Ruth!" her guest began apologetically.
"Yes?"