The photograph in Leek's pocket-book must have been taken in the past.

She looked quite forty-five, whereas the photograph indicated thirty-nine and a fraction.

He gazed down at her protectively, with a good-natured appreciative condescension.
"I suppose you'll have to be going back again soon, to arrange things like," she said.

It was always she who kept the conversation afloat.
"No," he said.

"I've finished there.