“Let me have that,” he said.
“No, no,” she answered absently, and then, “Is it really seven?”
“Yes, there’s the clock striking now.” The sound of the seven notes whirred and then clanged above their heads. “We must go,” he said. “They’re locking up.” The air was cold and damp after the warmth of the church and Henrietta stood, shivering a little and looking round her.
“I’m hungry,” Charles Batty said. “Will you come and have dinner with me?”
“No,” she replied, “I shall stay here.”
“How long for?”
“I don’t know.” And sharply she turned on him and asked, “What are you doing here?”
“I come here sometimes. There are concerts.”
“You’ll be late, then, if you are going to dine.”
“I know, but I’m hungry. You can’t listen to music if you’re hungry. Let’s have dinner first.”