“When we’re going home, then. We’re going home in a car.”
“Are we?” she said, pleased as a child. “But what about London, Charles? I have to go.”
“Not to-night. Here’s some chicken.”
“I can’t go back.”
“But you haven’t left a note.”
“No.”
“Then it’s easy. You and I have just been to a concert. You promised me that long ago.”
She uttered no more protests. She ate and drank obediently, glad to be cared for, and when the meal was over she told him gratefully, “You have been good. You never said another word about the band and it has made even my head ache.”
“And I forgot about it!” He stared at her in amazement. “I forgot about it! I didn’t hear it! Good heavens! But come away quickly before I begin remembering.”
That they might be able to tell the truth, they went to the concert and, standing at the back of the hall stayed there for a little while. Even for Charles, the music was only a covering for his thoughts. Henrietta, strangely gentle, was beside him, but he dwelt less on that than on the greater marvel of the new power he felt within himself. She might laugh at him, she might mock him in the future, but she could not daunt him, and though she might never love him, he had done her service. No one could take that from him. He turned his head and looked down at her, to find her looking up at him, a little puzzled but entirely friendly.