A drink, Nicholls?
It was most remiss------"
"No, thank you, sir." Nicholls straightened himself in his chair. "I'll be perfectly all right." He hesitated. "Is, is there anything else?"
"No, nothing at all." The smile was genuine, friendly. "You've been a great help to us, Lieutenant, a great help.
And a fine report.
Thank you very much indeed."
A liar and a gentleman, Nicholls thought gratefully.
He struggled to his feet, reached out for his crutches.
He shook hands with Starr and the Admiral of the Fleet, and said good-bye.
The grey-haired man accompanied him to the door, his hand beneath Nicholls's arm.
At the door Nicholls paused.
"Sorry to bother you but-when do I begin my leave, sir?"
"As from now," the other said emphatically. "And have a good time.
God knows you've earned it, my boy... Where are you going?"
"Henley, sir."
"Henley!
I could have sworn you were Scots."
"I am, sir-I have no family."
"Oh.... A girl, Lieutenant?"
Nicholls nodded silently.
The grey-haired man clapped him on the shoulder, and smiled gently.
"Pretty, I'll be bound?"
Nicholls looked at him, looked away to where the sentry was already holding open the street doors, and gathered up his crutches.
"I don't know, sir," he said quietly. "I don't know at all. I've never seen her."
He tip-tapped his way across the marble flags, passed through the heavy doors and limped out into the sunshine.