III
She was about fifty, he thought, a heavy cumbrous woman who couldnever have been good- looking. She had nice eyes, though, brown andkindly.
“Well, really, Dr. Calgary—” She was doubtful, upset. “Well, really, I’msure I don’t know….”
He leaned forward, trying his utmost to dispel¹ her reluctance², to sootheher, to make her feel the full force of his sympathy.
“It’s so long ago now,” she said. “It’s—I really don’t want to be remindedof—of things.”
“I do understand that,” said Calgary, “and it’s not as though there wereany question of anything being made public. I do assure you of that.”
“You say you want to write a book about it, though?”
“Just a book to illustrate³ a certain type of character,” said Calgary. “In-teresting, you know, from a medical or psychological standpoint. Nonames. Just Mr. A., Mrs. B. That sort of thing.”
“You’ve been to the Antarctic, haven’t you?” she said suddenly.
He was surprised at the abruptness⁴ with which she had changed thesubject.
“Yes,” he said, “yes, I was with the Hayes Bentley Expedition.”
The colour came up in her face. She looked younger. Just for a momenthe could see the girl she had once been. “I used to read about it … I’ve al-ways been fascinated, you know, with anything to do with the Poles. ThatNorwegian, wasn’t it, Amundsen, who got there first? I think the Poles aremuch more exciting than Everest or any of these satellites, or going to theMoon or anything like that.”
He seized on his cue and began to talk to her about the Expedition. Oddthat her romantic interest should lie there, in Polar Explorations. She saidat last with a sigh:
“It’s wonderful hearing about it all from someone who’s actually beenthere.” She went on: “You want to know all about—about Jackie?”
“Yes.”
“You wouldn’t use my name or anything like that?”
“Of course not. I’ve told you so. You know how these things are done.
Mrs. M. Lady Y. That sort of thing.”
“Yes. Yes, I’ve read that kind of book—and I suppose it was, as you said,path—patho—”

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