Mark rose to his feet and brandished the teacup triumphantly over his head.
"This is magnificent," he exclaimed. "What the Prayer Book calls 'a happy issue out of all our afflictions.'"
His wife regarded him with an affectionate smile. "You had better control your feelings, Mark," she said. "If you go on like that Miss Seymour will think you're mad, and she'll probably resign straight away." She turned to Nancy. "I should hate to say anything that could possibly put you off, but I think it's only fair to give you a word of warning. You are so young and so pretty that it seems a shame you should bury yourself in Shadwell. We do our best to be cheerful, but, you know, a doctor's practice in the East End of London is nearly all hard work and no play. You will probably find it horribly depressing."
Nancy shook her head. "I am not afraid of that," she said. "I rather like hard work as long as it's useful. What I'm doubtful about is whether I can do what you want."
"Good Lord, yes," exclaimed Mark hastily. "It's only just a matter of common sense. Mary would put you up to the ropes in half an hour."
"What are you doing now?" suggested the latter. "Why don't you stay on here and have supper with us? There will be plenty of time before then to give you a rough idea of what the work is like, and we can settle up the whole thing straight away."
Mary glanced at Colin. "It sounds a good idea," she agreed. "I suppose I can get home by train?"
"You won't have to worry about that," said Colin. "I'll take the car up to the garage and do my repairs, and then come down again and join you here."
In a half-humorous, half-wistful fashion Nancy looked round at all three of them.
"I am not used to people being so kind," she said. "Unless somebody's disagreeable soon I am afraid I shall begin to cry."