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 There’s nothing I want, really. I hate disturbing tired girls.”

He beamed at her.

“God bless you for a kind one, miss. He might have made a few more while He was about it. But I must be after working.”

When he was returning for the last time Valerie wondered whether she should tip him. She wished she had asked Bob what the custom here was. The minute she reached for her purse she saw she had made a mistake.

“Nothing from a lady like yourself, miss,” said Michael with a hurt look.

“Indeed no, Michael. But I want you to go and get me a bottle of ale, and bring it up here. Can you do that for a thirsty person?”

“Indeed and I can,” and with a look that included her in a secret fellowship, he went off to return in a few minutes with a bottle, a corkscrew, a tumbler and sixpence change.

She waved back the coin. “You must drink that to me for good luck in Dargaville,” she said gaily.

“God love you, miss, and there’ll never be anything but good luck for the likes of you.” He opened her bottle, touched his forehead again, and backed out gallantly.

Valerie drank her ale, and after a cold shower began to unpack. She heard no sound immediately about her till Bob knocked on her door at a quarter past six.

She looked with interest round the large dining-room, for there were all sorts of men sitting at the small square tables. Bob led her to one in the corner almost under their rooms.