Later, as she drifted off to sleep in the spare room, Sarah supposed that there must be a ruthless streak in him otherwise he would never have achieved his life-style. She liked his boyish charm and the light hearted way he approached life. Yet he had revealed remarkable insights as well. Perhaps there were further depths to Tim Cruikshank she had yet to see.

The next morning after sleeping in, Sarah stood uncertainly in front of the mirror trying to decide what to wear. After trying on several combinations, she decided to go for the usual jeans and a floppy blue checked shirt. Student life had been informal in her day and she doubted if times had changed.

Breakfast was tea and toast. Tim was deeply engrossed in the Financial Times and hardly had a word except a casual "Good Luck" as she departed for the tube train. Typical man Sarah thought. Didn't he know or care how nervous she felt!

It was late morning when she arrived at Euston Square tube station and a short walk took her down to the front of the University. It was as large and imposing as she remembered. Huge chunks of marble, stone and concrete and a rounded dome reared up before her with long lines of steps leading up to the official entrance.

Students were everywhere, laughing, holding hands and talking about the end of term exams with excitement and enthusiasm. The early summer sun shone down on the marble terraces and seemed to radiate outwards in tune with the excitement of its' students. Sam was there to meet her and had made arrangements for their visit and she was soon past the College Security Porters.

He seemed more confident now he was on his own territory. Dressed in off white trousers and a well worn colonial style shirt that flopped outside his trousers, he had a more bohemian appearance. But somehow more worldly wise that before.

She hesitated, unsure of the best way to say hello. They hardly knew each other, even a formal kiss would surely be out of place.

He solved this question with a firm handshake and a hand behind her back to lead them off in the direction of the main hall. As they went, Sam kept up a light monologue about the architecture of the buildings and its' history.

His hand behind her back was the guiding hand of any acquaintance. But to Sarah, it increased her nervousness, it felt heavily charged. It made her want to cringe and shrink away. To him it was perhaps a friendly and informal gesture. To her it was an intimate first step with an outcome to which she was yet to be reconciled.

They were inside now. He slowed down and let her stand for a while to absorb the atmosphere of the building. After a few minutes, just standing there, slowly she began to relax.

"It's so quiet in here", she whispered. The sound of their shoes on the polished floor surface as they slowly walked made echoes on the walls and columns.

Then, remembering a famous feature, she asked "Is the figure of Jeremy Bentham still about"?

"Just round the corner", replied Sam. Jeremy Bentham and the College went back a long way. The life size model beamed out from the glass case in which he now lived.

"Just think of how many people have passed in front of him over the years", said Sarah, "yet he hasn't changed at all. If only the rest of us could have altered as little".

Sam pushed his glasses back on his nose as was his habit and beamed vaguely at her seeming slightly surprised at her train of thought. The glasses he wore today gave his face a trout like appearance.

"I wouldn't have thought a good looking girl like you would need to be that worried", he said.

"You are too kind", smiled Sarah aloud, inwardly noting the compliment.

Did it mark a slight change in their relationship? They climbed some stairs. The library at the top was empty. Brown and grey books ran wall to wall, study tables were lined up in neat ranks. All empty. Nobody studied on the last day of term. Sarah thought she had used this library and tried to remember which had been her favourite desk.

From the window at the end, they could look out over the Law Faculty. Sarah remembered the days she had spent there. The long hours studying. The mock court battles with laws quoted and cases cited as precedents. She also remembered her friends and wondered how they were getting on. Where were they? What were they doing?

Intimate moments too came flooding back. The lingering and tender kiss under that arch over there on the night of her first 'Fresher's Ball'. How silent she and her gangly beau had been after that kiss as they went down Gower Street hand in hand. Walking on air, still tasting the sky burst of sensations from touching lips, mouths and tongues.