He stopped abruptly as if he had said too much.
'Manicured?' said Victoria warily, though the 'we' had given her a little shock. 'Oh, they're not worth manicuring now for the sort of work I've got to do.'
'Look here, Victoria,' said Cairns rather roughly. 'This can't go on. You're not made to be one of the drabs. You say your work is telling on you: well, you must give it up.'
'Oh, I can't do that,' said Victoria, 'I've got to earn my living and I'm no good for anything else.'
Cairns looked at her for a moment and meditatively sipped his port.
'Drink the port,' he commanded, 'it'll do you good.'
Victoria obeyed willingly enough. There was already in her blood the glow of Burgundy; but the port, mellow, exquisite, and curling round the tongue, coloured like burnt almonds, fragrant too, concealed a deeper joy. The smoke from Cairns' cigar, half hiding his face, floating in wreaths between them, entered her nostrils, aromatic, narcotic.
'What are you thinking of doing now?' she asked.
'I don't know quite,' said Cairns. 'You see I broke my good resolution. After my job at Perim, they offered me some surveying work near Ormuz; they call it surveying, but it's spying really or it would be if there were anything to spy. I took it and rather enjoyed it.'
'Did you have any adventures?' asked Victoria.