His lips opened, and then shut in silence.
"I shan't tell you," he murmured after a pause.
"It won't go any further," I promised.
"I don't want even you to know."
"Seraph, we've got no secrets. At least I hope not."
We had come alongside the entrance to the Savoy, but neither of us thought of turning in.
"Name, please?" I repeated after we had walked in silence to the Wellington Street crossing and were waiting for a stream of traffic to pass on towards Waterloo Bridge.
"'The Marriage of Gretchen,'" he answered.
"'The History of David Copperfield,'" I suggested.
"You see, you won't believe me," he complained.