Less flashy in its post-modernism than the MI6 building, more sober in its brick-framed glass curtain walling, Sally Malone would have pointed out that this was the two-bob side of the block, as against the half-crown riverbank site of the other building.

[…] there was a stretch of twelve miles of channel running in a north-easterly direction which the ship could not possibly negotiate under sail unless a change of wind should occur — of which there seemed to be absolutely no prospect. The only alternative, therefore, would be to kedge those twelve miles; truly a most formidable undertaking for four persons — one of them being a girl — to attempt.

The result, eventually, was the conviction of Mr. Hiss on charges of perjury. But the feature that especially appealed to me was the reputation that Congressman Nixon had achieved for fairness in the investigating process. Not once had he overstepped the limits prescribed by the American sense of fair play or American rules applying to such investigations. He did not persecute or defame.

Debbie and I would speak on the phone at least once a day. She made oblique inquiries into how I was feeling sexually, which I brushed off with a few poorly chosen jokes. Looking back, this joking around was a good way to deflect my fears. Call this the wet noodle phase.