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their seats. Students began furiously
writing down his every word, and Emma regretted not bringing a notepad and pen along with her.
    Speaking without notes, the professor nimbly switched from subject to subject: the role of Wall Street after the war, the dollar as the new world currency, oil becoming the commodity that would
dominate the second half of the century and possibly beyond, the future role of the International Monetary Fund, and whether America would remain fixed to the gold standard.
    When his lecture came to an end, Emma’s only regret was that he’d scarcely touched on transport, with just a passing mention of how the aeroplane would change the new world order,
both for business and tourism. But like a seasoned pro, he reminded his audience that he’d written a book on the subject. Emma wouldn’t be waiting for Christmas to get hold of a copy.
It made her think about Harry, and hope his book tour was going as well in America.
    Once she’d purchased a copy of
The New World Order
, she joined a long queue of those waiting to have their copies signed. She had nearly completed the first chapter by the time
she reached the front of the line, and was wondering if he might be willing to spare a few moments to expand his views on the future of the British shipping industry.
    She placed the book on the table in front of him, and he gave her a friendly smile.
    ‘Who shall I make it out to?’
    She decided to take a chance. ‘Emma Barrington.’
    He took a closer look at her. ‘You wouldn’t by any chance be related to the late Sir Walter Barrington?’
    ‘He was my grandfather,’ she said proudly.
    ‘I heard him lecture many years ago on the role of the shipping industry should America enter the First World War. I was a student at the time, and he taught me more in one hour than my
tutors had managed in a whole semester.’
    ‘He taught me a lot too,’ said Emma, returning his smile.
    ‘There was so much I wanted to ask him,’ added Feldman, ‘but he had to catch the train back to Washington that night, so I never saw him again.’
    ‘And there’s so much I want to ask you,’ said Emma. ‘In fact, “need” would be more accurate.’
    Feldman glanced at the waiting queue. ‘I guess this shouldn’t take me more than another half hour, and as I’m not catching the train back to Washington tonight, perhaps we
could have a private chat before I leave, Miss Barrington?’

4
    ‘A ND HOW IS my beloved Emma?’ asked Harold Guinzburg after he’d welcomed Harry to the Harvard Club.
    ‘I’ve just spoken to her on the phone,’ said Harry. ‘She sends her love, and was disappointed that she wasn’t able to join us.’
    ‘Me too. Please tell her I won’t accept any excuses next time.’ Guinzburg guided his guest through to the dining room and they took their seats at what was clearly his usual
corner table. ‘I hope you’re finding the Pierre to your liking,’ he said as a waiter handed them both menus.
    ‘It would be fine, if only I knew how to turn the shower off.’
    Guinzburg laughed. ‘Perhaps you should ask Miss Redwood to come to your rescue.’
    ‘If she did, I’m not sure I’d know how to turn her off.’
    ‘Ah, so she’s already subjected you to her lecture on the importance of getting
Nothing Ventured
on to the bestseller list as quickly as possible.’
    ‘A formidable lady.’
    ‘That’s why I made her a director,’ said Guinzburg, ‘despite protests from several directors who didn’t want a woman on the board.’
    ‘Emma would be proud of you,’ said Harry, ‘and I can assure you that Miss Redwood has warned me of the consequences should I fail.’
    ‘That sounds like Natalie. And remember, she alone decides if you return home by plane or row boat.’
    Harry would have laughed, but he wasn’t sure his publisher was joking.
    ‘I would have invited her to join us for lunch,’ said Guinzburg, ‘but as you may have observed, the Harvard Club does not allow