Judith. Betty Neels

with a disarming unselfconsciousness. ‘I must be getting back.’ She got to her feet. ‘Goodbye, Professor Cresswell.’

      ‘Retreat, Judith?’ His voice was smooth.

      ‘Certainly not—I said I’d be back to give a hand at evening surgery.’

      ‘You leave tomorrow?’

      ‘Yes.’ She started to walk past him and he put out a hand and caught her gently by the arm.

      ‘There’s plenty of time. I should like to know what you think of Hawkshead—of Cumbria—what you’ve seen of it?’

      She tried to free her arm and was quite unable to do so. ‘It’s very beautiful. This is my third visit here, you know—I’m not a complete stranger to the Lakes…’

      ‘You wouldn’t like to live here?’

      Just for a moment she forgot that she didn’t like him overmuch. ‘Oh, but I would,’ and then sharply: ‘Why do you ask?’

      She was annoyed when he didn’t answer, instead he observed in a silky voice which annoyed her very much: ‘You would find it very tame after London.’

      Eileen Hunt had said something very like that too; perhaps they had been discussing her. Judith said sharply: ‘No, I wouldn’t. And now if you’ll let go of my arm, I should like to go.’ She added stiffly: ‘I shan’t see you again, Professor Cresswell; I hope your book will be a success. It’s been nice meeting you.’ She uttered the lie so unconvincingly that he laughed out loud.

      ‘Of course the book will be a success—my books always are. And meeting you hasn’t been nice at all, Judith Golightly.’

      She patted the dogs’ heads swiftly and went down the path without another word. She would have liked to have run, but that would have looked like retreat. She wasn’t doing that, she told herself stoutly; she was getting away as quickly as possible from someone she couldn’t stand the sight of.