Britannia, watching him, couldn’t see any change of expression in his face, but come to think of it, she seldom did. And she had learned one thing; he was called Jake, which was a name she entirely approved of. Quite pleased with this discovery, she plunged into a discussion about china. There was a handsome bowl on the table at her hostess’s elbow—Weesp porcelain, she hazarded, and was pleased with herself when Mevrouw Luitingh van Thien, seeing her glance at it, began to talk of it; the subject led to a discussion about antiques in general until Britannia glanced at her watch and said, with real regret, that she would have to return to the Veskes’ villa, and when the professor, sitting by Madeleine and engrossed in some conversation of his own, was apprised of this, she added matter-of-factly: ‘It’s no distance, and I shall enjoy the walk.’

‘It’s dark,’ the professor pointed out flatly.

‘There’s a moon.’ She added defiantly, ‘And I like the dark.’

He took no notice of this, however, but got to his feet, while Madeleine scowled at them all and then looked taken aback when Britannia went over to her. ‘Forgive me, Juffrouw de Venz, for interrupting your talk with Professor Luitingh van Thien; it’s only a few minutes’ drive, though.’ She added with sweet mendacity: ‘I do hope that we meet again.’

But to her hostess she made no mention of hoping to see her again; she had been brought to the professor’s home through some quirk of fancy on his part, she supposed, she wasn’t likely to come again. She murmured all the right things and reflected wryly that at least she had had her wish; she had seen the house which had so taken her fancy and as an added bonus, she knew where the professor lived. She got into the anorak he was holding for her and accompanied him out to the car and got in without speaking when he opened the door. And she could think of nothing to say during the brief ride; it was all the more surprising, then, that when he stopped by the Veskes’ front door and got out to open her door, instead of wishing him goodbye she should ask: ‘Are you going to marry her?’

She wished she hadn’t been so silly the moment the words were out; he would snub her coldly or not answer her at all.

He did neither. He said in a loud, forceful voice: ‘No, I am not. Oh, at one time perhaps I considered it, but not any more—and do you know why, Miss Britannia Smith? Because of you, and God alone knows why; you preach at me, disapprove of me, constantly remind me that I am selfish and bad-tempered, and now you have seen my home, you will probably mount a campaign to persuade me to give away every penny I have…and yet I find that without you my life and my heart are empty.’

Her heart bounced into her throat, almost choking her. ‘Well, you know,’ she said soberly, ‘you may say all these things—and you have surprised me very much—but you don’t behave as though you mean any of them. No man with any regard for a girl would take her to his home to meet his mother and the girl who intends to marry him without giving her the chance of at least doing her hair.’ She added severely: ‘I looked a perfect fright, and you know it.’

He said quite seriously: ‘I thought you looked beautiful, Britannia. And I have just told you that I am not going to marry Madeleine.’

‘Yes, I know, but she doesn’t agree with that.’ She shivered a little in the cold early dark. ‘You see, she’s right for you, Professor. She comes from your background and probably you have known each other for years, she will run your great house for you and entertain your guests and wear all the right clothes. She’s beautiful, you know; all willowy and graceful…’

The professor caught her by the arm. ‘Bah—who wants willows and grace? I like women to look like women, and pray, what is to prevent you entertaining our guests and running our home and wearing what you call the right clothes?’

His hand was still on her arm and she was very aware of it. She shook her head slowly and began deliberately to tear her dreams to shreds in a quiet, steady voice.

‘I hoped that I would meet you again, even though I thought that you didn’t like me, but I wanted to be sure of it, if you can understand that. You had told me that you were rich, remember? but I didn’t bother about that, not until just now, sitting in your lovely home. But now I can see that just being rich isn’t at all the same…’ She came to a stop, anxious to find the right words. ‘You see, you aren’t just rich, Professor, it’s more than that—it’s a way of life; you live in a magnificent house which I think must have been in your family for a very long time; you drink your tea from Sèvres china and the chairs you sit on are a kind which any self-respecting museum would jump at. But you’ve been born and brought up among them, you’ve eaten from porcelain with silver knives and forks since you can remember, and that’s the difference; you take them for granted, just as your Madeleine does, that’s why she’ll be right for you. Don’t you see?’

‘No.’

‘Don’t say no in that fashion, Professor!’

She heard him sigh. ‘Britannia, before we go any further with this singlarly futile conversation, may I beg you to stop calling me Professor in that severe fashion. My name is Jake.’

‘Yes, I know. I like it—but if I call you Jake, that’s how I shall remember you…if I call you Professor you’ll always be just that.’

‘My dear girl, let us get one thing clear. I have no wish to be just a professor dwindling away in your thoughts. I’m a man called Jake who has fallen more than a little in love with you.’

‘But if you hadn’t met me, you would have married Madeleine.’

He took her gently by the shoulders. ‘I’ll give you an honest answer, Britannia, because I can’t be anything else with you, you have been honest with me. Probably I should, but not because I loved her; I’m almost forty and I must have a wife and children to live in my home after me, but having said that, I’ll repeat that now I have met you, I shall never marry her.’

‘Never’s a long time. I think this happens all the time—people meet and—and fall in love, perhaps not very deeply, and when circumstances prevent them meeting again, in time they forget and take up their lives as they were before.’

Britannia spoke with quiet conviction, not believing a word of it.

‘You don’t want to see me again?’ the professor spoke harshly.

She stirred a little and his hands tightened their grip. ‘Well, I shall never see you once I’ve gone back to England at the end of the week. Would it matter very much if we saw each other just once more, to say goodbye?’

‘It’s your own fault that we do say goodbye, you silly, stubborn, high-minded girl—and don’t expect sympathy from me, for you’ll get none.’ He caught her close and kissed her so hard that she rocked on her feet and then without another word, marched her to the door, opened it and then turning away with a brief goodnight, got into his car and drove away.

Britannia went indoors, shutting the door silently behind her. There was a good deal of laughing and talking in the sitting room so that no one would have heard her come in. Half an hour in her room would give her a chance to pull herself together; it had been harder than she could have imagined because she loved the professor so much; too much, she reminded herself, to let him make a mistake he might regret later on. He had said that he was more than a little in love with her, but she wasn’t sure if that was quite enough. Infatuation seemed like love, but it didn’t last, and they had only met a few weeks ago and then only briefly. For herself she was quite sure that she loved him, but that wasn’t enough either, although it was tempting to pretend that it was. She crossed the hall silently and was on the stairs when the sitting room door burst open and Joan ran out.

‘I saw the car lights,’ she cried. ‘Britannia, never mind about going to your room; come into the sitting room and drink our health—Dirk and I are engaged, isn’t it wonderful. He’s got to go back in a few days, but he’ll get leave and come back in six weeks’ time and we’ll get married then.’ She caught Britannia by the arm and danced her into the sitting room, which seemed full of people all talking at once. Britannia went around shaking hands, laughing and talking with an animation she didn’t feel, although two glasses of champagne did help. It was late by the time she got to bed; she had changed quickly and there had been a long-drawn-out dinner party with more champagne, so that her slightly muddled wits had been unable to cope with her own problems. But in the morning, after breakfast, it was easy enough to make an excuse about buying stamps while Joan wrote letters and telephoned her family. She put on the anorak once more and went along to get her bike. She had the morning before her, she would take one of the narrow country lanes where there was no traffic to bother her, and sort out her problems.