"Have you dined?" I asked.
She shook her head as though the mention of food nauseated her, but I insisted on her eating a cutlet and drinking a little wine. When my uncle came in, she made an effort to calm herself and, as we drove to Waterloo and travelled down to Melton, she was able to speak composedly of the days of twenty years before when we played and fought together in our school holidays.
"You're going to be brave, Sonia?" I asked, as the train steamed into the station.
"I shan't cry any more," she promised, giving my hand a little squeeze.
"And you will give your mother some message of sympathy from me?"
"But you're coming up to the house?"
"You'll both find it easier to meet if I'm not there," I said. "There's a train back soon after one."
She flung her arm suddenly round my neck.
"George, I feel I was always such a beast to him!" she whispered.