She's a tall girl, Susan, and his shirt doesn't swamp her the way it had swamped the young Lucy on board the Treader, but her shoulders are slim beneath it and he feels a certain warm delight to watch her come, bare-foot and long-legged and lovely in her undress, moving around in his own borrowed clothing.

He rises from the side of the bed and solicitously pulls back the covers for her, then comes to put an arm around her waist and to kiss her cheek as she'd kissed his. "My turn," he tells her. "Make yourself comfortable, Su."