‘I promise, my dear.’
He looked a shade less unhappy.
‘And please let me see you when you come back. I won’t be tiresome; but I must see you sometimes.’
‘When I come back then, Martin—if you really want to. But by that time you’ll realise what a pig I am.’
He put his arms round her suddenly.
‘Oh, Judith,’ he whispered, ‘can’t you ever ...?’
‘Martin, can’t you ever not?’
‘No.’ He laid his head down on her shoulder for a few moments; then straightened himself and said with an effort at cheerfulness:
‘Well, I hope you’ll have a good time.’
‘I hope you will. But you’re sure to.’