taut by a life in the outdoors. His hands were a rare combination of size and grace, as though he could hold anything in them, with no appearance of effort.
Yet his face told a different story. It was lean, almost austere, with fine features and dark, expressive eyes: the face of a thinker, a scholar, perhaps a poet. This was something Dottie had never seen in her life before, yet she recognized it at once, and felt a faint stir of response.
Then she laughed at herself. What could she do with a man like this? A man she couldn't read.
“Are you a soldier?” she asked impulsively.
“Why do you ask?”
“Just…something about you,” she said helplessly. Life in a family with a small vocabulary hadn't left her equipped for this. ventured
“I did a stint in the army,” he said truthfully. It had been part of his training.
“But not anymore? I mean, you didn't want to make a career of it?”
“No, but it's not impossible that I might return,” he said with a wry grimace. She made no answer and he saw a vague look in her eyes, as though she had gone into a trance. “Dottie?”
She came back to earth. She'd been watching his mouth, the way the lips moved against each other as he spoke, or used them expressively.
“Yes?”
“What were you thinking?”
“That this is the best night out I've ever had.”
“Doesn't Mike take you out?”
“Yes, we go dog racing sometimes. It's great.”
“What do you want, Dottie?” he asked suddenly. “I mean, out of life.”
“But you know what I want. I'm going to marry Mike and we're going to have the garage.”
“And live happily ever after,” he finished wryly. “Nothing else?”
“Lots of kids.”
“But don't you ever want to soar into the heavens?”
“In an airplane? With me it was always boats.”
“How do you mean?”
“Grandpa used to take me to see the River Thames. I loved it. I watched the boats and thought about faraway places.” She glanced through the window to where the river flowed, shining under the shore lights and those from the occasional boat.
“Why don't you show me?” Randolph suggested, signaling to the waiter.
In minutes they were outside, making their way toward the water. It was quiet along the embankment, and they could hear the soft lap of the water. For a while Dottie had nothing to say, until at last she rested her arms against the stone ledge overlooking the river with a sigh of deep contentment.
“I didn't really mean soaring in an airplane, Dottie,” Randolph said, taking up the thread of their previous conversation. “I meant, inside you.”
“People don't soar in Wenford,” she said with a faint sigh. “It's not a soaring sort of place.”
“But what about the 'faraway' you mentioned? What about the lands of your dreams? Don't you ever have dreams? You've got your cafe and your garage mechanic, and that's it?”
“You're having a go at poor Mike, aren't you? Look, I know he's not the answer to every maiden's prayer-”
“That depends what you think the maiden was praying for,” he said wryly.
She gave a choke of laughter. “Well, this maiden was praying for someone who was kind and good-natured, and who'd let her look after him.”
“That's what you like? Looking after people?”
“Of course,” she said, sounding surprised, as though it was a matter of course. “It's wonderful to be needed. I used to think-”
“Go on,” he said when she stopped.
“You mustn't laugh.”
“I promise.”
“Well, at first I wanted to be an actress. But then I used to think I'd like to be a children's nurse.”
“Why would I laugh at that?”
“Well, honestly! Me! I'm too dumb. I never passed any exams at school. In fact I never took any. There was just me and Grandpa by then and he was always sick so I bunked off school.”
“But that doesn't mean you're dumb, just caring. If there'd been someone to care for you, you'd have done well.”
“I did have someone to care for me,” she said firmly. “Grandpa loved me. It's just that things got on top of him a bit. Anyway, I couldn't be a nurse. It's not in my stars.”
“You read horoscopes?”
“No, not that sort of stars.” In a sudden expansive gesture she flung a hand up to the night sky. “Fate,” she said dramatically. “Destiny. There's a niche waiting for you somewhere in the world, that only you can fill.”
He'd once thought the same. His niche had been clear, and he was well prepared for it. But then it had turned out not to be his at all. “That's a dangerous doctrine,” he said somberly.
She sighed and went back to gazing over the water. “You're right. It's not good to dream too much. It's better to be a realist.”
“Maybe reality will turn out to be stranger than you think,” he murmured.
She looked at him. “You sound as though that meant something particular.”
“Nothing special,” he said hastily, trying to make his face and voice blank so that his pain wouldn't show. Mostly he kept that pain under stern control, but this disconcerting young woman had touched a nerve.
A cab rumbled by and he hailed it. “Let's go back,” he said.
The lamps were still on in Hanver Park, and as they climbed the broad steps Randolph became aware of something very curious. But for themselves the park was empty, yet the two mime artists were still there, earnestly gesticulating, oblivious to the fact that nobody was watching them. They seemed completely happy in a world of their own, where no audience was needed.
They stopped to watch. The entertainers continued in serene silence, their white faces ghostly under the lamps. After a while Randolph looked away from them, to Dottie.
She was entranced, oblivious to him, her eyes gleaming with the colored lamps, her lips parted in a half smile of delight. He wondered when he'd last been so happily unselfconscious, but he couldn't remember it. Perhaps never.
Dottie's radiant innocence was like a blow to his heart. She was so candid and trusting, so sure the rest of the world was as honest as herself. How could she realize that the man with her was the serpent in Eden, plotting to destroy her happiness? He would take everything away, first the world in which she was at ease, then the lover who meant so much to her. And in their place he offered wealth, grandeur and a kind of power-all of which, Randolph was increasingly convinced, would mean nothing to her.
She looked up at him suddenly. “What's the matter?”
“Nothing. Nothing's the matter.”
“Yes it is. You were thinking about something that made you sad.”
Her shrewdness caught him off guard and for a moment he floundered.
“Is it me?” she asked. “Have I done something wrong?”
“No Dottie,” he said gently. “You've done nothing wrong. You've been delightful, all evening.”
The two artists had stopped miming and were watching them intently, looking from him to her, and back.
“Yeah, well, I gave you a laugh, anyway.”
“More than that,” he said seriously. “I think you're one of the nicest people I've ever known.”
A soft breeze had sprung up, making her hair drift about her face. Randolph couldn't take his eyes from her.
“It's been a lovely, lovely evening,” she sighed. “Like magic.”
“Yes. A kind of magic. That's just what it was.”
Dottie became aware of the anxious gaze from the two white faces. “What's up with you two?”
“I think they want me to kiss you,” Randolph said, and putting his fingers under her chin, he lifted it and bent
