The Young Intruder by Eleanor Farnes

thought that Alison’s influence was altogether too disruptive when it took Peter away from his office. Alison, however, was too happy about the day before her to bother about Priscilla for the moment. Before she left with Peter, she ran upstairs to say goodbye to Douglas.
    Douglas was still in bed. He had finished breakfast and was now awaiting the daily visit of the masseur. Alison had not been into his room before, and she thought how thin he looked, and how boyish, in his striped pyjamas.
    “I came up to say goodbye to you, Liebling,” she said. She crossed to the side of the bed and kissed his cheek. “You won’t be lonely all day without me?”
    “Do you think you are indispensable to my comfort?” he asked.
    “No,” she said. “But I was, perhaps, hoping so.” He took her hand and squeezed it hard.
    “Of course I’m going to miss you,” he said. “But it will teach me not to be selfish and rely on you too much. Have a good time, Alison.”
    “Oh yes, I’m sure to. Goodbye, Douglas.”
    She said to Peter, as they drove off in his beautiful car: “I feel sorry to leave Douglas for a whole day.”
    “I’m afraid he has had many lonely days,” said Peter, to whom this was also a worry.
    “But that’s no reason why he should now that I am here,” she said. Then she smiled up at him. “But just for to-day,” she added, “I won’t let it worry me.”
    They went to the Tower of London, and Peter escorted her round it. Everything, from her first glimpse of its heavy stone walls, delighted her. She listened, absorbed, interested, to everything he had to tell, and asked so many questions that Peter said it was beyond him to answer them all. She would ask a question, and then look up at him, awaiting his answer; and each time she did so, she thought how handsome and distinguished and utterly right he looked. She deliberately said things to amuse him, so that she could look for the smile that would illumine the seriousness of his expression. As they came to awkward staircases or slopes, he held out a hand to help her, and although she was perfectly able to negotiate them all by herself, she took the helping hand each time, in order to feel the firm, strong fingers close around her own.
    They saw everything there was to see, including the Crown Jewels. Alison waited hopefully for Tower Bridge to open, but was unlucky. “Could we walk over it?” she asked Peter, and together they walked over Tower Bridge to the centre, and Alison stood with one foot on one half of the Bridge and the other foot on the other half, feeling the vibrations as the traffic passed. “I do wish it would open,” she said, “but not at this moment, of course.”
    “It only opens for the big ships,” said Peter. “It might be hours before it is necessary.”
    They leaned on the parapet, and watched the great cranes at work, loading and unloading the ships in the river.
    “It’s fascinating,” said Alison. “Quite fascinating. I could watch all day. You know, I never imagined London anything like this.”
    Peter smiled gently at her enthusiasm. He thought what a charming child she was. When she had seen enough of the river traffic, they walked back to the car, and as the Monument was nearby, he decided they could take that in also before luncheon. Alison had imagined it much taller, but still, she said, there would be a good view from the top, and she would like to go up. So they began their ascent of the rather dark, rather narrow spiral staircase.
    “Stop when you are out of breath,” advised Peter.
    “I’m quite all right,” said Alison, going up and up. At last, however, she was forced to stop for a moment. She leaned against the wall, in the gloom, and looked at Peter.
    “Out of condition,” she said breathlessly.
    “Don’t lean on the wall,” said Peter. “It is probably none too clean. Here, lean on me.”
    He put out a hand and pulled her against him, and she rested against his shoulder, with his arm about