"You missed nothing that cannot be recovered, then," he corrects himself, and there is in his voice a hint of laughter. He is not a man much touched by flattery, and yet he does feel its effect - does find himself strangely charmed by her flirtations, and by the impulse behind them. It has a lightness to it which he is unaccustomed to, and which, in truth, he has sorely needed; and she has in her approach a confidence that is more winning than anything she could actually say or do with it.

He reaches for his notebook - he will not, after all, be writing any more - and draws it towards him, shaking his head with a smile.

"I am not busy at all." That is the truth: there is a reason he comes here on Saturdays, and it is that he has no other commitments between now and the morning. "And, with that in mind, how could I refuse so kind an invitation?"