When the housework was quite done⁠—and he noticed that she did it much more conscientiously than usual, as though making excuses to prolong it⁠—she announced her intention of going over to Chequers Street. “If Lobbie hasn’t gone out yet,” she said, “and I’m pretty sure he won’t have, I’ll get him to go down by the river with me.”

“You’ll be back for lunch, won’t you, honey?” He threw into these words all the supplication he could.

“No, Wolf, I don’t think so,” she replied slowly. “I think I’ll get mother to make up some sandwiches, like she used to in the old days, when Lob and I went down to the Lunt. I’ll be back for tea, though. You can put on the kettle at five, if I’ve not come then. I won’t be much later than that.”