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She let herself into her house with a latch-key and as she got in heard the telephone ringing. Without thinking she took up the receiver.
"Yes?"
She generally disguised her voice when she answered, but for once forgot to.
"Miss Lambert?"
"I don't know if Miss Lambert's in. Who is it please?" she asked, assuming quickly a cockney accent.
The monosyllable had betrayed her. A chuckle travelled over the wire.
"I only wanted to thank you for writing to me. You know you needn't have troubled. It was so nice of you to ask me to lunch, I thought I'd like to send you a few flowers."
The sound of his voice and the words told her who it was. It was the blushing young man whose name she did not know. Even now, though she had looked at his card, she could not remember it. The only thing that had struck her was that he lived in Tavistock Square.
"It was very sweet of you," she answered in her own voice.
"I suppose you wouldn't come to tea with me one day, would you?"
The nerve of it! She wouldn't go to tea with a duchess; he was treating her like a chorus girl. It was rather funny when you came to think of it.
"I don't know why not."
"Will you really?" his voice sounded eager. He had a pleasant voice. "When?"
She did not feel at all like going to bed that afternoon.
"Today."
"O.K. I'll get away from the office. Half-past four? 138, Tavistock Square."
It was nice of him to have suggested that. He might so easily have mentioned some fashionable place where people would stare at her. It proved that he didn't just want to be seen with her.
She took a taxi to Tavistock Square. She was pleased with herself. She was doing a good action. It would be wonderful for him in after years to be able to tell his wife and children that Julia Lambert had been to tea with him when he was just a little insignificant clerk in an accountant's office. And she had been so simple and so natural. No one to hear her prattling away would have guessed that she was the greatest actress in England. And if they didn't believe him he'd have her photograph to prove it, signed yours sincerely. He'd laugh and say that of course if he hadn't been such a kid he'd never have had the cheek to ask her.
When she arrived at the house and had paid off the taxi she suddenly remembered that she did not know his name and when the maid answered the door would not know whom to ask for. But on looking for the bell she noticed that there were eight of them, four rows of two, and by the side of each was a card or a name written in ink on a piece of paper. It was an old house that had been divided up into flats. She began looking, rather hopelessly, at the names wondering whether one of them would recall something, when the door opened and he stood before her.
"I saw you drive up and I ran down. I'm afraid I'm on the third floor. I hope you don't mind."
"Of course not."
She climbed the uncarpeted stairs. She was a trifle out of breath when she came to the third landing. He had skipped up eagerly, like a young goat, she thought, and she had not liked to suggest that she would prefer to go more leisurely. The room into which he led her was fairly large, but dingily furnished. On the table was a plate of cakes and two cups, a sugar basin and a milk-jug. The crockery was of the cheapest sort.
"Take a pew," he said. "The water's just on the boil. I'll only be a minute. I've got a gas-ring in the bathroom."
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