He was so excited at the thought of bursting into Cora’s room that he threw caution to the wind and drove right through the West End to Hanover Square. There was no difficulty in leaving the cab on the cab rank there. It was nearly one o’clock and the Square was deserted. He hurried down George Street, across Conduit Street and into Clifford Street. He ran up the stairs to the top flat. There was a light on in the hall, and he could hear Eva’s voice coming from the sitting-room. A moment later, Little Ernie answered. He wondered if Cora was with then; then he remembered she said she was going to bed. Well, he’d look in her bedroom first. He went down the passage very quietly, and opened the door. The room was in darkness, but the heady, exciting smell of sandalwood greeted him.
“Cora?” he called softly. “Are you awake?”
“Who is it?” Cora’s voice asked sleepily, then she said more sharply, “What is it?”
“It’s me, George.”
“What do you want?” She sounded irritable, and a moment later she snapped on a light over her bed.
George looked at her, feeling a great rush of love and tenderness to his heart.
She’s wonderful, he thought, looking at her. She was wearing a pair of satin, peach-coloured pyjamas he guessed she must have borrowed from Eva.
“What is it?” she repeated, looking at her wristwatch. “Why, it’s after one. Haven’t you been to bed?”
“May I come in?” -George asked, still standing awkwardly in the doorway. “I’ve got a surprise for you.”
Instantly a quick, calculating expression jumped into her eyes. "A surprise? What is it?”