When Reggie arrived he found her already seated in her place in the outer office.‘Good morning, Mr Perrin,’ she said.‘Good morning, Mrs Webster,’ he said. ‘Twenty-two minutes late. Obstacles on the line at Berrylands.’It was almost like old times. He threw his umbrella at the hat-stand joyously, and watched it sail through the window, which was open for purposes of cleaning.He picked up the yellow phone.‘Ah, Mrs Webster,’ he said. ‘Your . . . er . . . your first task. I wonder if you’d mind going out and round the back of the building and you’ll find my umbrella stuck in a grating.’‘Certainly, Mr Perrin.’When Joan returned, Reggie said, ‘Ah, there you are!’He must stop stating the obvious.Take a letter, please, Mrs Webster,’ he said.Joan sat in the dictation chair, began to cross her legs, remembered not to, and uncrossed them hastily.They laughed nervously. The new relationship wasn’t going to be easy.‘To C.J., Blancmange Cottage, Godalming. Dear C.J., I was deeply distressed to read of all the troubles that have assailed you so undeservingly.’He noticed an ironic gleam in her eyes.
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