And then I was startled by an authoritative rap on the shutter. I sprang up. Harry was on the stoep outside.

“Put some clothes on, Anne, and come out. I want to speak to you.”

I huddled on a few garments, and stepped out into the cool night air⁠—still and scented, with its velvety feel. Harry beckoned me out of earshot of the house. His face looked pale and determined and his eyes were blazing.

“Anne, do you remember saying to me once that women enjoyed doing the things they disliked for the sake of someone they liked?”

“Yes,” I said, wondering what was coming.

He caught me in his arms.