‘Will you marry me?’ he repeated because Elizabeth was still just staring at him, one hand pressed against her chest, as if trying to contain a storm within.

It was, he conceded, a reasonable impersonation of strong emotion for an upright squid.

‘But I tortured you!’ she said.

‘Was there torture?’ he laughed, gaily. ‘I only noticed you.’

‘Yesterday, I nearly cut your head cut off.’

‘Oh, let’s not dwell on the past.'