She fluttered beside his steady pressure of warmth and his surety.

He saw the performance drawing to a close. His senses were alert and wilful. He would press his advantages. He followed her and her plain friend down the stairs to the street.

It was raining.

“It's a nasty night,” he said. “Shall you come and have a drink of something — a cup of coffee — it's early yet.”

“Oh, I don't think so,” she said, looking away into the night.

“I wish you would,” he said, putting himself as it were at her mercy. There was a moment's pause.

“Come to Rollins?” he said.