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eccentricities. But he himself had been stupid not to tell Stella the truth at once. It was only the unexpected competition of Grimsdyke which had stimulated the deception as automatically as a reflex. He wondered nervously if he could continue carrying it off. He was unfamiliar with the insides of Mayfair hotels, or of any hotels at all, apart from the long-suffering inns which accommodated the St Swithin’s rugger tours. But Stella, he supposed glumly, idled away most of her off-duty time in such places.
    As he drove, he chatted in a preoccupied way, the words of confession more than once forming on his lips. Then he decided to go through with it. He had both an admirable determination and a refusal to be daunted by any person or event whatsoever – qualities so necessary for the survival of the medical student. Besides, he realized as he parked the Rolls, it was too late now to admit everything without risking Stella’s fury. And anyway, he concluded, it might all turn out to be a bit of a giggle.
    ‘I’ll contact the manager,’ he said, as they entered the lobby.
    ‘And I must go to the ladies’.’
    Sir Lancelot’s name at the reception desk quickly brought Luigi from his office. Terry handed him the scribbled note.
    ‘So you are a friend of Sir Lancelot, sir?’ Luigi bowed. ‘He often sent his distinguished medical colleagues to dine in the old days, before we were rebuilt. I’m delighted that we are still in favour with him, sir. I’m afraid he has not been too comfortable with us so far. For such an old and valued guest, I shall of course arrange for you to have a good table in the restaurant.’
    ‘I think the grill would be preferable.’
    ‘Between you and me, sir, you are quite right.’ Luigi seemed impressed. ‘Would you care to take your drinks first in the Starlight Bar? The view over London is delightful.’
    ‘I suppose the drinks can go on the dinner bill?’ Terry asked quickly.
    ‘If you wish, sir.’
    ‘Oh! And – er, you can put the tips on it, too.’
    ‘That will be done, sir.’
    ‘Do you happen to know a Miss Stella Gray? I expect she often comes here.’
    Luigi frowned. ‘I can’t recall the name at the moment, sir. But of course we have so many distinguished people passing through our doors.’
    Leaving the ladies’, Stella couldn’t resist slipping into a telephone-box. She dialled a number, and said breathlessly, ‘Mum – guess where I am? In the new Crécy.’
    ‘What are you doing there?’ her mother asked sharply.
    ‘This boy I told you about – he took me.’
    ‘What? The medical student?’
    She dropped her voice. ‘But Mum, he’s loaded. A Rolls, the lot.’
    ‘Now don’t you get into trouble–’
    ‘Oh, Mum! You know me. Caution to the core.’
    ‘So you won’t want any supper when you get in?’
    ‘Not now. Though I must say, these students usually leave you half-starved.’
    Tossing her blonde hair over her shoulders, she went to rejoin Terry. Her father though not a millionaire was a hard-working chemical engineer, and like all girls she enjoyed romancing.
    In the rooftop bar Terry ordered martinis, a drink he had not sampled before. It delighted him to notice that Stella, despite her struggle to hide it, appeared agreeably impressed with everything. He would have liked to have poured out with the drinks the sensuous feelings which were fermenting inside him, but he felt it prudent to establish himself first as a sophisticated man of the world, someone she could afford to take notice of. Besides, he reflected as a waiter handed him a large menu, he was really dead scared of her.
    ‘Shall we order up here? We’ll eat in the grill. The food’s better than in the restaurant.’
    ‘That’s what everyone says, lover boy.’
    ‘The chicken à la kiev is always particularly good,’ he murmured, running his eye down the page with a refreshing disregard for the prices. ‘Though I fancy we’d best avoid drinking the claret, which is known all