Erin Klingler's The Marriage Pact!
And here we go:
The fire in the grate had finally managed to make some headway against the atypically chilly night, and H G Wells sighed with contentment as, for the first time in hours, his toes, fingers and nose thawed to something approaching a comfortable temperature. As he listened to the Home Service on the wireless, he leaned back in his wing chair, and stretched his slippered feet out across a footstool. A snifter of brandy in one hand, he decided that a quiet evening at home had a lot to recommend itself as an idea.
Not five minutes later, however, the distant sound of the doorbell drew him out of his idle reverie. With a sigh, he put aside his glass, switched off the radio, and forced himself to make his way down the cold corridor to the front door.
Have at it!
Wendy
