In the end there was no time to say good-bye to anyone. Girls were scattering, flying about with labels and suitcases, or with flat-irons to press the frocks they were to wear in May Week.
May Week had been fun last year: five nights’ dancing on end, with Jennifer and a young cousin of hers at Trinity, and a boy in the Navy. This year it had not seemed worth while to accept invitations.
While Judith was engaged in strapping her boxes and throwing the accumulated rubbish of three years out of drawers and cupboards into a heap on the floor, a maid came smiling and said a gentleman was waiting downstairs.
It was Martin.
‘Martin! Oh, my dear!’
‘I came on the chance, Judith. I motored up to see a man who’s going abroad. Are you—are you staying up for May Week?’
‘No, Martin. I’m catching a train in about two hours and going straight home.’
‘Really home, do you mean? Next door to us?’
‘Yes. Thank Heaven. It’s not let any more. Mother and I will be there part of the summer anyway. Will you—will any of you be there?’
‘Mariella’s down there now, with the boy. And Roddy and I are going for a bit. In fact I’m going to-day—motoring. That’s what I came for—to see if you’d care to motor back with me.’