It was after eleven when he reached her door, and as he made his apology for having been unable to come away earlier, she complained that it was indeed very late; the storm had made her unwell, her head ached, and she warned him that she would not let him stay longer than half an hour, that at midnight she would send him away; a little while later she felt tired and wished to sleep.

“No cattleya, then, tonight?” he asked, “and I’ve been looking forward so to a nice little cattleya.”

But she was irresponsive; saying nervously: “No, dear, no cattleya tonight. Can’t you see, I’m not well?”

“It might have done you good, but I won’t bother you.”