Elsie rose and automatically glanced at herself in the looking-glass. One side of her face was flushed, her eyes looked small and swollen-lidded, and her hair was disordered. She dabbed powder on her face and pulled her wave of hair further down over her forehead before going downstairs.
The doctor was hanging up his hat on the crowded hooks that lined one side of the wall in the tiny entrance lobby.
“Coast clear?”
Elsie nodded.
“Sure?”
“Absolutely.” She held out the key of the house door. “I’ve locked up at the back.”
“Then I’ll lock up at the front,” said Doctor Woolley, and did so.
“My God, we’re in a bloody mess,” he began, turning round and facing Elsie.
Desperate, she ran forward and threw herself into his arms, instinctively seeking the only reassurance she knew, that of physical contact.
The doctor suddenly buried his face in her hair, then forced her face upwards and kissed her passionately.