Assumptions

Higgins spent most of the evening pacing about the house, occasionally and half-heartedly looking under odd piles of papers and books. At about nine Pickering breezed in. "Good news, Higgins, I have an old friend at the Home Office who has put three men on the case. She's as good as found."

"She's back."

"There you are! Jolly good! Knew I could count on old Boozy. Damn fine afternoon over at the club, remembering our old... ah... events. So where is Eliza?"

"She's not here."

"Confound it, Higgins, make up your mind, is she here or not?"

"She's taken lodgings at a women's boarding house."

"A bit hard on her to throw her out like that, wouldn't you say?"

"I did NOT throw her out." He glared at Pickering. "She says if she is going to work for me she would rather live elsewhere, and I suppose there is some merit in that. I'm paying her sixteen shillings a week to be a secretary and scheduler."

"But did you have to drive so hard a bargain? The typewriter girl at the club gets one-and-three, although she's been there a few years, and she is a lightning fast typist, almost as fast as one can talk, it's really a marvel how the technique's come along since the days of..."

"ELIZA..." Higgins' outburst silenced Pickering. "...suggested the wage herself. She doesn't feel her spelling is good enough to command a greater wage."

"She must have done that out of consideration for your position then. I understand, right sporting of her."

"Well, I don't! Consideration for my position! What about me does she need to worry about?"

"Oh, come Higgins, it's fairly obvious you do have some feelings for her. Now don't protest. Your actions betray your words, and your rationalisations are just a bit too strenuous."

"That's a bit rich coming from an old bachelor like you."

"And where in hell are you getting this old bachelor nonsense? I thought I'd heard you say that. before. You've read Spoken Sanskrit, didn't you see the dedication?"

Higgins paled and suddenly could not look Pickering in the eye. Higgins had written fourteen books and never had any use for dedications. Whenever any other book came into his hand he skipped the front matter and went straight for the meat of the work. He slowly crossed to a bookshelf, carefully pulled out Spoken Sanskrit, and turned the first pages over. Of course. To my own Millicent, with my love and gratitude forever. He forced out words he hardly ever said: "Pickering, I'm terribly sorry."

"Millie was born in India. Her father was the colonel in my regiment. I met her at an officers' ball. She had such a great affection for the place and the people. Some said too much. We were married fifteen years. No children, so she was every child's favourite aunt. She was actually my best informant for the book, and proofread the manuscript. About ten years ago, while I was away on an inspection tour, she caught cholera... " Pickering was stone faced. There was nothing more to say.

All Higgins could think of to do was go to the mantle, pour two glasses of port, and offer one to Pickering. "I shall try to be more attentive in the future."

Pickering graciously took the glass. "Hardly your fault, old chap. I shouldn't avoid talking about past times like that. We had fifteen wonderful years, which is more than many men get. More than many men get the opportunity to have." He toasted Higgins with a sly smile.

Higgins hesitantly returned the toast, tried to get his bearings, and tossed back his port. He needed to steady his nerves. The wind had changed direction entirely too many times today.