tongue.'
Emmy said quietly, 'Yes, that's a very good description of me, isn't it? Are you enjoying your visit? London in the autumn is rather special.'
'The shopping is good, and we enjoy going out in the evenings. Do you go out much?'
Her voice, too loud and with a strong accent, grated on Emmy's ears.
'Not very much. It's quite a long day here. When I do go home I walk our dog…'
'You have a dog? I do not like them, and certainly not in the house. I dislike cats also-their hairs…'
Emmy's relief telephonist was showing signs of impatience, which made it easy for her to say that she had to return to her switchboard.
'It's been nice meeting you,' said Emmy mendaciously. For once she agreed with the professor that 'nice' was a useless word and quite inappropriate. She hoped that she would never see the girl again.
'I won't keep you from your work. It was most satisfying to find that Ruerd's description of you was so accurate.'
Anneliese didn't offer a hand, nor did she say goodbye. Emmy and the relief watched her go.
'Who's she?'
'Professor ter Mennolt's financйe.'
'The poor man. She'll lead him a dance; you see if she doesn't.'
'She's very beautiful,' said Emmy, in a voice which conveyed nothing of her feelings. Though her goodnight in reply to the professor's passing greeting was austere in the extreme.
The following evening, after a wakeful night, and a different day, it held all the hauteur of royalty in a rage.
Not that the professor appeared to notice. 'I'm free on Sunday. Will you help me choose a dog-some time in the morning-or afternoon if you prefer?'
He didn't sound friendly; he sounded like someone performing an obligation with reluctance. 'My fiancйe has gone back to Holland this morning,' he added inconsequentially.
'No,' said Emmy coldly. 'I'm afraid I can't.'
He eyed her narrowly. 'Ah, of course-you consider it very incorrect of me to spend a few hours with someone other than Anneliese. The moment she sets foot in the plane, too.'
'No. At least partly.' She frowned. 'It was the bomb which…' she sought for the right words '…was the reason for you speaking to me. In such circumstances that was natural. There is no need-'
He said silkily, 'My dear Emmy, you do not for one moment imagine that you are a serious rival to Anneliese? For God's sake, all I have asked of you is to help me choose a dog.'
'What a silly thing to say,' said Emmy roundly. 'It is the last thing I would think. I am, as you so clearly described me, plain and mousy and badly dressed. Certainly no companion for you, even at a dogs' home!'
He said slowly, 'When did you meet Anneliese?'
'She came here to see me. She wanted to see if you had described me accurately.' Emmy added stonily, 'You had.'
The professor stood looking at her for a long minute. He said, 'I'm sorry, Ermentrude, it was unpardonable of me to discuss you with Anneliese and I had no idea that she had come here to see you.'
'Well,' said Emmy matter-of-factly, 'it's what any woman would do-you could have been lying about me.' She gave a rueful smile. 'I might have been a gorgeous blonde.'
'I do not lie, Ermentrude. I will not lie to you now and tell you that you are neither mousy nor plain nor badly dressed. You are a very nice-and I use the word in its correct sense-person, and I apologise for hurting you. One day someone-a man-will look at you and love you. He won't notice the clothes; he will see only your lovely eyes and the kindness in your face. He will find you beautiful and tell you so.'
Emmy said, 'Pigs might fly, but it's kind of you to say so. It doesn't matter, you know. I've known since I was a little girl that I had no looks to speak of. It's not as though I'm surprised.' She gave a very small sigh. 'Your Anneliese is very beautiful, and I hope you'll be very happy with her.'
The professor remained silent and she put through an outside call. He was still there when she had done it.
He was not a man in the habit of asking a favour twice, but he did so now.
'Will you help me choose a dog, Ermentrude?'
She turned to look at him. 'Very well, Professor. In the afternoon, if you don't mind. About two o'clock?'
'Thank you. I'll call for you then.'
He went away, and just for a while she was too busy to reflect over their conversation. Which was a good thing, she decided, for her bottled up feelings might spill over. She would go with him on Sunday, but after that good morning and good evening would be sufficient.
Later, when she considered she had cooled down enough to think about it, she thought that it wasn't that he had discussed her with Anneliese so much as the fact that he hadn't denied calling her plain which had made her angry. On the other hand, supposing he had denied it-and she'd known that he was lying? Would she have been just as angry? In all fairness to him she thought that she would. She liked him even if there was no reason to do so.
Her mother and father, when she told them on Sunday answered exactly as she had known they would. Her mother said, 'Wear a warm coat, dear, it gets chilly in the afternoons.'
Her father said, 'Good idea-enjoy yourself, Emmy!'
Her parents were going to Coventry on the following day-the last week away from home, her mother assured her, for her father would be round and about London after that. 'You're sure you don't mind?' she asked anxiously. 'I know you're busy all day, but it's lonely for you, especially in the evenings.'
'Mother, I've heaps to do, honestly, and I'll get the garden tidied up for the winter.' Though the garden was a miserably small patch of grass surrounded by narrow flowerbeds which Emmy would hopefully plant.
The professor arrived punctually, exchanged suitable and civil remarks with her mother and father and ushered Emmy into the car. She had gone to great pains to improve her appearance. True, her jacket and skirt were off the peg, bought to last, and therefore a useful brown-a colour which didn't suit her. But the cream blouse under the jacket was crisp, and her gloves and shoulder bag were leather, elderly but well cared for. Since her brown shoes were well-worn loafers, she had borrowed a pair of her mother's. Court shoes with quite high heels. They pinched a bit, but they looked all right.
The professor, eyeing her unobtrusively, was surprised to find himself wishing that some fairy godmother would wave a wand over Emmy and transform the brown outfit into something pretty. He was surprised, too, that she wore her clothes with an air-when he had thought about it, and that hadn't been often, he had supposed that she had little interest in clothes. He saw now that he was wrong.
He made casual conversation as he drove, and Emmy replied cautiously, not at all at her ease, wishing she hadn't come. Once they had reached the dogs' home she forgot all about that. She had never seen so many dogs, nor heard such a concert of barking.
They went to and fro looking at doggy faces, some pressed up to the front of their shelters, eager for attention, others sitting indifferently at the back. 'They're pretending that they don't mind if no one wants them,' said Emmy. 'I wish we could have them all.'
The professor smiled down at her. Her face was alight with interest and compassion and, rather to his surprise, didn't look in the least plain.
'I'm afraid one is the best I can do. Have you seen a dog which you think might suit me? There are so many, I have no preference at the moment.'
They had stopped in front of a shelter to watch the antics of an overgrown puppy, chosen by a family of children and expressing his delight. There were a lot of dogs; Emmy looked at them all and caught the eye of a large woolly dog with the kindly face of a labrador and a tremendous sweeping tail. He was sitting in the corner, and it was obvious to her that he was too proud to attract attention. Only his eyes begged her…
'That one,' said Emmy. 'There.'
The professor studied the dog. 'Yes,' he said. 'That's the one.'
