Then he found his word and the lecture continued.

At exactly five minutes to the hour, he began on the recapitulation, laid the unravelled controversy once more before them — and was done.

He had not taken more than a few steps before he was surrounded. Old students came to welcome him back, new ones to greet him. The red-faced colonel reminded him that they had met in Simla, shy housewives hovered.

Verena waited quietly, not wishing to be lost in the crowd. Only when the Professor finally made his way to the door did she intercept him with a few powerful strides and gave him news which she knew must please him.

‘I am,’ she said, ‘Verena Plackett!’

‘What do you mean, you’ve admitted her?’

Dr Felton sighed. He’d been so pleased to see the Professor a couple of hours ago. Somerville’s arrival lifted the spirits of everyone in the department; the breeze of cheerfulness and enterprise he brought was almost tangible, yet now Felton rose, as if in respect to Quin’s rank, and wondered what was supposed to be the matter.

‘I’ve told you… sir,’ he began — and Quin frowned, for the ‘sir’ meant that he had put Roger down harder than he had intended. ‘University College gave her place to someone and they rang round to see if anyone could have her. I thought we might squeeze her in and I knew you were in favour of taking refugees wherever possible.’

‘Not this one. She must go.’

‘But why? She’s an excellent student. You may think that being pretty and having all that hair and talking to the sheep —’

‘Talking to the sheep? What sheep?’

‘It was sent down by the Cambridge Research Institute and now they don’t want it back.’ He explained, trying to work out why the Prof, who had come in in the morning in the best of tempers, was now so stuffy and irascible. ‘It’s lonely and Ruth recites poetry to it. Goethe mostly. There’s one called “The Wanderer’s Night Song” it likes particularly, only it sounds different in German, of course.’ And catching sight of the Professor’s face: ‘But what I’m saying is that though she’s original and… and, well, emotional, she’s very good at her work. Her dissections are excellent, and her experimental technique.’

‘I dare say, but you’ll have to get her transferred.’

‘I can’t. There isn’t anywhere. UC tried all sorts of places before they came to us. And honestly I don’t understand what all this is about,’ said Roger, abandoning respect. ‘The whole of London is riddled with refugees you’ve found work for — what about the old monster you wished on the library of the Geographical Society — Professor Zinlinsky who looks up the skirts of all the girls? And your aunt called in when she was here for the Chelsea Flower Show and she says it’s just as bad in Northumberland — some opera singer of yours trying to milk cows — and now you try and turn out one of the most promising students we’ve had. Of course it’s early days, but both Elke and I think she has a chance of beating Verena Plackett in the exams. She’s the only one who’s got a hope.’

‘Who’s Verena Plackett?’

‘The VC’s daughter. Didn’t she come and thank you for your excellent lecture?’

‘Yes, she did,’ said Quin briefly. ‘Look, I’m sorry but I’m not prepared to argue about this. I’m sure O’Malley will take her down in Tonbridge. He owes me a favour.’

‘For God’s sake, that’s an hour on the train. She’s saving for Heini’s piano and —’

‘Oh she is, is she? I mean, who the devil is Heini?’

‘He’s her boyfriend; he’s on his way from Budapest and I don’t mind telling you that I think he ought to get his own piano; she doesn’t have any lunch because of him, and —’

‘My God, Roger, don’t tell me you’ve fallen for the girl.’

He had seriously hurt Felton’s feelings. Roger’s spectacle frames darkened, he scowled. ‘I have never in my life got mixed up with a student and I never will; you ought to know that. Even if I wasn’t married, I wouldn’t. I have the lowest possible opinion of people who use their position to mess about with undergraduates.’

‘Yes, I do know it; I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. But you see I knew the Bergers pretty well when I was in Vienna; I stayed with them one summer when Ruth was a child. It’s entirely unsuitable that she should be in my class.’

Felton’s brow cleared. ‘Oh, if that’s all… Good heavens, who cares about that?’

‘I do.’

‘I suppose you think you might mark her up in exams, but I shouldn’t have thought there was much likelihood of that,’ said Felton bitterly. ‘You probably won’t even be here when it’s time to do the marking.’

‘All right, you have a point. However —’

‘She’s good for us,’ said Felton, speaking with more emotion than Quin had heard in him. ‘She’s so grateful to be allowed to study, she reminds the others of what a privilege it is to be at university. You know how cynical these youngsters can get, how they grumble. We too, I suppose, and suddenly here’s someone who looks down a microscope as though God had just lowered a slide of paramecium down from heaven. And she’s helping that poor little aspirin girl who always fails everything.’

‘Exactly how long has Miss Berger been here?’ asked Quin, whose ill temper seemed to be worsening with every minute.

‘A week. But what has that to do with anything? You know perfectly well that one can tell the first time someone picks up a pipette whether they’re going to be any good.’

‘Nevertheless, she’s leaving,’ said Quin, tight-lipped.

‘Then you tell her,’ said Dr Felton, defying his superior for the first time in his life.

‘I will,’ said Quin, his face like thunder. At the door, he turned, remembering something he needed. ‘Can you let me have the figures for last year’s admissions as soon as possible? The VC wants them.’

Felton nodded. ‘I’ve almost done them. They’ll be ready for you this evening — I swear by Mozart’s head.’ Quin spun round. ‘What did you say?’ Roger blushed. ‘Nothing. Just a figure of speech.’

The room occupied by the Professor of Vertebrate Zoology was on the second floor and looked out over the walnut tree to the façade of the Vice Chancellor’s Lodge and the arch with its glimpse of the river. The pieces of a partly assembled plesiosaur lay jumbled in a sand tray; the skull of an infant mastodon held down a pile of reprints. By the window, wearing a printed wool scarf left behind by his Aunt Frances, stood a life-sized model of Daphne, a female hominid from Java presented to Quin by the Oriental Exploration Society. The single, long-stemmed red rose in a vase on his desk had been placed there by his secretary, Hazel, an untroubling, middle-aged and happily married lady who could have run the department perfectly well without the interference of her superiors, and frequently did.

Ruth, summoned to the Professor’s room, had come in still filled with the happiness his lecture had given her. Now she stood before him with bent head, trying to hold back her tears.

‘But why? Why must I go? I don’t understand.’

‘Ruth, I’ve told you. In my old college in Cambridge members of staff weren’t even allowed to have wives, let alone bring them into college. It’s quite out of the question that I should teach someone I’m married to.’

‘But you aren’t married to me!’ she said passionately. ‘Not properly. You do nothing except send me pieces of paper about not being married. There is epilepsy and being your sister and a nun. And the thing about not consuming… or consummating or whatever it is.’

‘It won’t do, my dear, believe me. With the old VC we might have got away with it, but not with the Placketts. The scandal would be appalling. I’d have to resign which actually I don’t mind in the least, but you’d be dragged into it and start your life under a cloud. Not to mention the delay to our freedom if we were known to have met daily.’

‘All those things with C in them, you mean,’ said Ruth. Fluent though her English was, the legal language was taking its toll. ‘Collusion and… what is it…? Connivance? Consent?’

‘Yes, all those things. Look, leave this to me. I’m pretty sure I can get you on to the course down in Kent. They don’t do Honours but —’

‘I don’t want to go away.’ Her voice was low, intense. She had moved over to the window and one hand went out to rest on Daphne’s arm as though seeking a sister in distress. ‘I don’t want to! Everyone is so kind here. There’s Pilly who has to be a scientist because her father saw you striding about on a newsreel with yaks and that’s not her fault, and I’ve promised Sam that I’d bring Paul Ziller to the Music Club and Dr Felton’s classes are so interesting and he has such trouble with his wife wanting to have a baby and taking her temperature —’

‘He told you that!’ said Quin, unable to believe his ears.

‘No, not exactly — but Mrs Felton came to fetch him and he was delayed and we began to talk. I’m not reserved, you know, like the British. Of course, when we said our marriage should be a secret, that was different. A secret is a secret, but otherwise… Even my goat-herding grandmother used to tell people things. She would roll down her stockings and say “Look!” and you had to examine her varicose veins. She didn’t ask if you wanted to see her veins; she needed to show them. And, of course, the Jewish side of me doesn’t like distance at all, but it’s different with you because you are British and upper class and Verena Plackett is studying Palaeontology so that she can marry you when we have been put asunder.’

Quin made a gesture of impatience. ‘Don’t talk rubbish, Ruth. Now let’s think how —’

‘It isn’t rubbish! She’s bought a new dress for the dinner party tonight because you’re coming. It’s electric-blue taffeta with puffed sleeves. I know because the maid at the Lodge is the porter’s niece and he told me. Of course she is very tall but you could wear your hair en brosse and —’