‘Give Nurse Clock her money back,’ demanded Mrs Cheek. ‘If she is beyond reclaim, do the decent thing by her. Nurses do not earn much.’

‘Alas,’ said Sir James, and said no more.

‘Charm must be there to draw out,’ said Lady Lord-Blood. ‘If Nurse Clock has no charm it is not our fault. She did not say so when she wrote. We are the put-upon ones.’

‘Nothing can be done about Nurse Clock,’ said Sir James, and smiled to soften the blow.

‘At least her vowel sounds are nicer,’ his wife put in.

‘Yes, yes,’ said Sir James, brightening and smiling more.

The whole episode of the charm course had a profound effect on Nurse Clock. She was thirty-eight at the time, and she resolved, there and then, in the presence of the erring Lord-Bloods and the Indian and Mrs Cheek, that she was made as God had designed her. She became, then, fully herself, accepting herself and seeing the role she must play. ‘I am E.A. Clock, State Registered Nurse, born beneath the sign of Gemini.’ These words ran through her mind as she stood awkwardly before the Lord-Bloods and Mrs Cheek, in the presence of a dark-skinned man from the town of Dacca in Eastern Bengal.

In a moment she turned away and departed from the house. She walked through the lifeless suburban roads, meditating on herself. There, in the quiet peace of an English summer morning, she accepted again the judgement of Sir James and Lady Lord-Blood, ill-qualified though they were to issue it. From that day forth she put behind her certain desires and ambitions. Out of absurdity came truth for Nurse Clock in her thirty-eighth year.