II
“Come out, Tina, and let’s get some air.”
“Air?” Tina looked up at Micky doubtfully. “But it’s so cold, Micky.” Sheshivered a little.
“I believe you hate fresh air, Tina. That’s why you’re able to stand beingcooped up in that library all day long.”
Tina smiled.
“I do not mind being cooped up in winter. It is very nice and warm inthe library.”
Micky looked on her.
“And there you sit, all cuddled up like a cosy¹ little kitten in front of thefire. But it’ll do you good to get out, all the same. Come on, Tina. I want totalk to you. I want to—oh, to get some air into my lungs, forget all thisbloody police business.”
Tina got up from her chair with a lazy, graceful² movement not unlikethat of the kitten to which Micky had just compared her.
In the hall she wrapped a fur-collared tweed coat round her and theywent out together.
“Aren’t you even going to put a coat on, Micky?”
“No. I never feel the cold.”
“Brr,” said Tina gently. “How I hate this country in the winter. I wouldlike to go abroad. I would like to be somewhere where the sun was alwaysshining and the air was moist and soft and warm.”
“I’ve just been offered a job out in the Persian Gulf,” said Micky, “withone of the oil companies. The job’s looking after motor transport.”
“Are you going?”
“No, I don’t think so … What’s the good?”
They walked round to the back of the house and started down a zig-zagpath through trees which led finally to the beach on the river below. Half-way down there was a small summerhouse sheltered from the wind. Theydid not at once sit down but stood in front of it, gazing out over the river.
“It’s beautiful here, isn’t it?” said Micky.
Tina looked at the view with incurious eyes.
“Yes,” she said, “yes, perhaps it is.”
“But you don’t really know, do you?” said Micky, looking at her affec-tionately, “you don’t realize the beauty, Tina, you never have.”
“I do not remember,” said Tina, “in all the years we lived here that youever enjoyed the beauty of this place. You were always fretting³, longing

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