He was smoking an enormous pipe. His face was red. His great form looked lumbering and shapeless in an ancient tweed coat and a pair of voluminous grey flannel trousers.
‘How are you, Judith?’ His brown eye fixed itself on her. He was very shy.
‘I’ve been ill, Martin.’
‘Oh!...’ He looked troubled and embarrassed. ‘Did you—did you have a decent doctor?’
‘Oh yes. It was almost pneumonia, but not quite.’
‘I didn’t know you’d been ill....’
‘You haven’t been to see me for ages, Martin.’
‘I know. I’ve been so busy.’ Violently he blew the ash about. What a shame to pretend to reproach him. He was obviously overcome.... ‘And I didn’t think you wanted.... I suppose you’re all right again now?’
Footsteps sounded outside on the stair. Judith collected herself and sat rigid. The door opened and Roddy, smiling, eager, debonair, came into the room.
‘Hullo, Judy! Marvellous to see you.’