" Are you sure you 're quite fit ? 
It 's terrible weather . " 
He turned round to face his colleague . 
For some esoteric reason Fairbanks always completed the buttoning of his flies in the main area of the lavatory . 
" Good morning , Harold , " he said . 
" I 'm pretty chipper , thanks , considering . " 
He was a tiny man , of fanatical neatness , his remaining hair snowy , and cropped like a Prussian 's . 
His white shirt cuffs were actually starched : he protruded from them his surprisingly thick and hairy wrists and began to wash . 
" As a matter of fact a good hard frost seems to clear the old tubes . 
Much better for me than the rain . " 
"Good , " said Colmore . 
" Excellent . " 
Fairbanks hummed a few bars in a voice made resonant by the very weakness of his chest . 
Colmore was ready to leave , but delayed his departure , as one who dare not go to bed early for fear of missing some wholly unanticipated but remotely possible event of absorbing interest . 
He took up a clothes brush . 
" I 'd like a little conference this morning , " said Fairbanks . 
" Ten-thirty be all right ? " 
He did not wait for a reply . 
" Get J.D. , will you ? " 
J.D. was Davis , the other Assistant Secretary . 
" Conference " was Fairbanks 's word for finding out what was going on . 
" Yes , Charles , certainly , " Colmore said . 
It was not the Secretary 's return to health that was disconcerting this morning — the man had to retire at sixty — but his irreproachable fac6ade . 
Westminster and Lincoln — not , of course , absolutely full-fruit standard , but serviceable enough . 
Colmore had more than once read his entry in Who 's Who : son of Canon Fairbanks , married to the daughter of a knight , member of the Devonshire . 
Colmore thought of his own parents , now safely dead : his mother 's wen , his father 's lack of aspirates . 
With such a background one could never be really safe however brilliant one was . 
There were a score of things that could betray one 's weakness , things that lay totally outside Fairbanks 's conception . 
Perhaps some outrageous relation would suddenly decide to call on him at his office : his Uncle Howard , say , whose nose had doubtless grown no less purple over the years . 
Or his accent , which had carefully acquired a neutrality as unidentifiable as some composite creature evolved by statisticians , could break down unbeknown to himself , on the pronunciation of a common and tell-tale word . 
Or , more subtly , his whole habit of mind and body , formed in the uncultured , nagging , parsimonious , penurious household of his childhood , might , at a crucial moment of his life , reveal him as utterly unsuitable for further advancement — not necessarily or , indeed , at all , by a word or gesture or family connection , but through the image of himself that had willy-nilly and over an extended period been fixed in the eyes of those who controlled his destiny . 
Fairbanks reached for a towel , a clean one and not the scarcely crumpled one that Colmore himself had used and had left thriftily on the ledge below the mirror rather than consign to the linen basket . 
Of course , Colmore thought , as he put down the clothes brush and left the lavatory , in one sense , in a very real sense , his own action , which would have saved the two or three coppers on the Authority 's laundry bill , would have been the right , the virtuous one . 
He had simply never properly learnt what came to Fairbanks quite naturally , that the rules of conduct which must be enforced on the inferior mass do not apply to the rulers themselves . 
It was not long ago that Fairbanks had personally overhauled the system whereby the departments of the Authority indented for stationery stores , making the ordering the responsibility of a department 's Senior Administration Officer who , among many other things , was henceforth to issue new pencils only on the surrender of an equivalent number of pencil stubs . 
When in 1940 he had first entered the service of the Authority — though in those remote days it had , of course , been merely the Executive Committee — he had imagined that even its higher reaches were , like his own level , simply a matter of work , of problems set and overcome , of the advancement of the able and the stagnation of the inefficient . 
But as he had progressed and the organization itself had grown , he had begun to encounter all the unforeseen forces of birth , influence and intrigue . 
He had occasionally — even in those days — glimpsed the highest powers and their way of life : the building ( and this was 1941 ) of a massive series of oak lockers for the Committee 's hats and coats , following the theft of the Vice-Chairman 's umbrella ; a meeting of the Committee itself with virgin blotting paper , freshly-sharpened pencils , cut-glass carafes of water , and its members displaying not their ability ( which no doubt in some cases actually existed ) but the quality of their garments or knowledge of each other 's background , and even in the case of the ex-Trade Union members a salience , a richness of feature that seemed at once designed for the convenience of the newspaper cartoonist and the product , like the splendour of a jungle animal , of some special advantage of nurture or habitat , so that each moustache or bald head or pair of spectacles was a unique and peculiarly finished specimen of its kind , possessing , indeed , some curious aesthetic quality as though added by a great painter . 
As he moved up in the hierarchy — or , rather , was buoyed along by the great influx of personnel below him when the Authority became the Authority and began to expand at an increasing rate with the end of the war — the world of the rulers grew less strange : it occasionally recognized his existence , his promotions became its concern , and he at last saw the possibility of breaking into it . 
Though that was not quite the phrase , for even if he could succeed Sir Charles he would , as an executive , be eternally differentiated from the Governors . 
Fairbanks managed the Governors beautifully , he knew more than they , he was cleverer than most , discreetly used their Christian names — but remained their servant . 
They had no office hours , however elastic ; their lives were spent in committee making decisions for others to execute on the basis of data laboriously gathered for them ; they moved from board-room to board-room , encountering a succession of new pencils , clean towels , institutional crystal and silver , protein-rich lunches , immaculate agendas , able slaves . 
Lord Groves , for example , though doubtless compelled by earlier habits of comparative poverty to fried fish high teas , existed for the greater part of his life in luxury , lolling in the back of an Authority Austin or in a complimentary stall , strolling along the promenade at a Conference , eating in a free pullman car on his way to open a new Authority provincial office . 
And even Lord Groves , despite his proletarian origins and political complexion , shared the fierce , jealous morality of the rulers . 
If Colmore was apprehensive of Fairbanks 's view of his conduct , how much more had he to fear from the Governors , who at the breath of a scandal would close their ranks and utterly disown him . 
In their company he had sometimes had to check an expression of opinion , divining — as a child , ignorant of the moral standards of the adult world , anticipates censure in the premonitory motion of a mouth or eye — that what he was about to say would offend the collective ethos . 
It would be utter folly , for example , for him to indicate that he lacked religious belief ; though , no doubt , several of the Governors had never for years set foot in a place of worship , together they presented a solidly spiritual front . 
Colmore remembered , too , how one of their number had once commented to him on what to the speaker was the Royal Family 's excessive interest in horse racing ; but the institution of royalty could never be called into question , and from the critic himself would certainly come one of the loudest of the murmurs of " God bless her " after a proposal of the loyal toast . 
For on this level , the great monoliths of the state which to the population at large presented the simple issue of aye or no , were capable of intimate criticism , albeit they were of unquestioned acceptance — as the friends of a celebrated actress will , without in the least denying her greatness or surpassing beauty , remark on a mole or wrinkle which the general public has never been close enough to see . 
Among the Governors there was often casual talk of " Royals " or " Buck House " : in the last analysis it was the honours and titles bestowed by the state through the institution of royalty — like the ease of mind which came through the allegiance to an official religion — which these men most valued , for in their position they were ambitious less for money than for the infinite gradations of social and public distinction . 
How stupid and gross would seem to them Colmore 's abortive romance ! 
Indeed , so it seemed at this moment to him . 
His desires , his fumbling way of fulfilling them , put him at the same sort of disadvantage as his voice , his school , his family — perhaps the one stemmed in some way from the other . 
As he reached his room he was seized with a sudden fright about Davis , who had come into the Authority the normal way , via the Civil Service , and whose lack of the ultimate ability lay hidden in a charming orthodoxy . 
It was not until Colmore had been at his desk for a half-hour that his sense of power and control returned . 
His mastery of the Authority 's vital processes made him look forward with almost painful pleasure to the meeting with Fairbanks and Davis , as a well-prepared candidate to his examination . 
So that as he made his way to Fairbanks 's room — fileless , paperless , leaving on his desk the daily returns of the Authority 's financial position , having transferred the relevant figures effortlessly to his memory — he searched greedily in his mind for some other reason for being happy , and lit on Judith . 
He marched up to the next floor , looking down at the sharp crease of his trousers along his thighs , sensing the satisfactory hang of his unbuttoned jacket as it moved gently in the disturbed air made by his passage , and thought : I 'll keep her in reserve . 
The thought was comic even to him — that he should treat her like an item in the Authority 's accounts . 
But how few men of his years had this unobvious relationship , this inexhaustible source of aesthetic enjoyment , this secret and unforeseen extension of their youth , and who of those few would voluntarily surrender to the passionless final phase of their lives . 
4 
The telephone rang and Colmore rose immediately . 
Dorothy said : " Let Anna take it , darling . 
She ought to practise her English . " 
Anna was their European girl of the moment , half maid , half student . 
" No , " Colmore said , " she 's been waiting long enough for lunch as it is . 
And one of us will have to go in the end . " 
They had just sat down at table after a rather extended session of gin and frenches with Colmore 's three companions of the morning 's golf whom he had brought home to meet up with their wives , already being entertained by Dorothy . 
A comforting husk of inebriation separated Colmore from reality and it seemed to him that his reaction in anticipating that the call would be from Judith was phenomenally quick and sagacious . 
They had not been in touch with each other since the unsatisfactory evening that had begun with the intrusion of the callow young man from Gilson & Freeman 's , whose name he could not dredge up through the alcohol , and the thought of speaking to her and even , in this uninhibited moment , arranging to see her soon — tomorrow , tonight — brought an excitement to him that was almost physically erotic . 
In the few yards from the dining-room he had time not only to review all this in detail but to savour the remains of his last mouthful of pa5te2 and to admire once again the colour and pattern of his new tweed suit that he was wearing for the first time today . 
" Then perhaps I should — shall we say — qualify my name , sir , " he suggested . 
" We are known — the family , I mean — as the Stratford-Lees . 
My mother likes it . 
She was a Stratford , you see , from Norfolk . " 
He spoke as though both of us should be acquainted with the Stratfords of Norfolk , but neither one of us commented . 
" But the Old Man does n't care for using double-barrelled names , as he calls them . 
And I think I agree with him . 
That 's why I use just the plain " Lee " on my cards . 
But if you think " — and his expression changed quickly to deliberation — " that I should use the Stratford-Lee , just out here I mean , then of course — " 
"Oh Lord , no , " I said , perhaps just a little too abruptly . 
" There are far too many double-barrelled names out here as it is . " 
He sat back again , obviously satisfied . 
" I 'm inclined to agree with you , sir , " he said . 
We had a leisurely lunch . 
Nigel 's cook-boy had prepared an excellent curry , hot enough with chili to make my eyes water a little , even after so many years of hot curries . 
The gin pahits , and now the beer with the curry , had their desired effect on us ; or rather , on Nigel and myself . 
Lee , I noticed , had asked for Coca-Cola . 
This rather surprised me from a young man who was otherwise so sophisticated . 
He was not , however , ostentatious about the matter . 
If anything , he had merely become a little more reserved , and much more polite . 
I thought to myself : " A few years in the East , my boy , and you 'll drink — I 've seen your kind before ! " 
After the curry , I wanted only to go upstairs to bed . 
I had long since become accustomed , and now addicted , to an after-curry nap . 
Lee , however , showed not the slightest sign of fatigue . 
" I wonder if you 'd mind if I took a bit of a look round , " he asked Nigel . 
" I do n't sleep in the afternoons . " 
Nigel , I must say , was very good about it . 
I knew how much he probably wanted to sleep himself . 
But , almost gallantly , he said : 
" Not at all . 
I 'll show you . " 
"Oh no , " young Lee protested , considerate as always . 
" That 's not necessary if you want to rest , sir . 
I 'm sure I wo n't do any harm . " 
Nigel laughed . 
I had not known he was so good-natured . 
But then , I suppose I had never given him similar cause to display such amiability . 
" I had n't for one moment thought you would , " Nigel said . 
" Bring your swimming costume , if you like . 
We 've got a small pool over on the other side of the estate , near the latex factory . " 
"Oh excellent ! " young Lee said , and his face lit up with enthusiasm , like an energetic young athlete . 
I only just recall hearing them drive off from the bungalow as I took myself gratefully up the stairs and , stripping off to just underpants in the heat of the afternoon , collapsed on the bed . 
As I went off to sleep , I was very grateful to Nigel for not having suggested that I should accompany them . 
I slept soundly , and much later than I should . 
It was already after six when I awoke , and the sun was nearly setting beyond the west window . 
Downstairs I could hear the murmur of voices , and knew they were back . 
I wondered , as I wrapped a sarong around my waist , if Nigel at all resented being deprived of his afternoon sleep . 
They were sitting over the tea things when I joined them . 
Nigel did n't look at all put out ; in fact I decided he must have quite enjoyed himself with young Lee during the afternoon , and I was glad of it . 
No , Nigel was n't put out ; but to my surprise , and amusement , I detected a slight frown of disapproval from Lee at my sarong , and my feet shod in only se5patus . 
And I said to myself : Oh , God , does n't the boy ever relax ! 
He turned his gaze away from me almost instantly , but it had been enough to make me conscious of the nakedness of the upper half of my body , even of the matted grey hairs on my chest . 
He probably thought my appearance quite a breach of the social graces ; but , naturally , he said not so much as a word about it . 
" We 've just had tea , " Nigel said . 
" Would you like the cookie to make you a fresh lot ? " 
"I 'd rather have whisky , " I told him . 
" Thought as much . 
Sun 's nearly below the yard-arm , anyway . 
Would n't mind a stengah myself . 
How about you , Harry ? " 
So they had managed to come to the stage of using each other 's Christian names , I noted . 
Perhaps Lee was n't quite as reserved as I thought . 
" Thanks , Nigel , " he said . 
" Just Coca-Cola . 
Although I 'd like to have whatever you have . 
I want to get to know the kind of life people lead in the East , you know . " 
At this , I felt a return of the irritation I felt with him at times . 
He would not have had a drink for the sake of the drink , but only to know the kind of life we led in the East ! 
But then I dispelled my irritation , or endeavoured to ; apart from its being so irrational , I had , probably , another two or three weeks of his company ahead of me . 
It would be silly , at this point , to let such trivialities bother me . 
I was even surprised that they should . 
The drinks were served , not by the Chinese cook-boy , but by two young Malay girls dressed gracefully in sarong and ke5baya . 
Barefooted , they moved around the room silently , but with voluptuous and unmistakable insinuation . 
I could tell almost instantly which one I preferred . 
As she set down my drink beside me , I looked at her , probably with blatant assessment , and she returned my gaze with a mischievous sidelong glance , and just the faintest suggestion , though quite inaudible , of a giggle . 
Knowing Nigel , I would have been surprised if he had not made his usual " arrangements " . 
A bachelor himself , he knew well how to entertain his bachelor friends . 
He caught my look and pursed his lips in a quick little grimace of acknowledgement ; then raised an enquiring eyebrow in young Lee 's direction . 
I shrugged a shoulder . 
Lee would have to decide about that for himself , I thought , and noticed that although he was looking at the other girl , he did so quite dispassionately , almost as though he was merely interested in the unfamiliar clothes she was wearing . 
And I thought to myself : He may be still too much of a " new chum " to see " the beauty of the East " . 
There was still an ease in our conversation , but its scope was restricted . 
I felt that I could hardly make the usual enquiries and comments about Nigel 's various mistresses as I was accustomed to whenever I saw him , much as I wondered which of his girls was in favour at the moment . 
And I suppose he felt the same . 
We had only a few drinks , then decided to bathe and dress for a rather early dinner . 
Lee was impressed not only with the estate , or so he said , but also with the accommodation provided for a planter , and a bachelor at that . 
It was , of course , very comfortable , and Nigel had made it very presentable with additions of furniture , pictures , the radio equipment , and personal touches of his own . 
He read widely , and had collected a sizeable library . 
He was also interested in Malay customs , more especially in those of the aboriginal Sakais , and his walls were adorned with a varied collection of Sakai weapons . 
He had one of the better Kashmir carpets on the floor . 
His pictures and curtains , indeed I suppose the entire furnishings , had been selected personally . 
The house was , as he occasionally proclaimed , his home — and he had made it as such . 
I doubt if he will ever leave Malaya , even when he retires . 
The country , and his mistresses , have come to mean too much to him . 
And , indirectly , this impression I had of him was one of several reasons why I had decided I should leave it — before , for me too , it would be too late . 
I used the excuse of our early start in the morning to retire as soon as it seemed prudent to do so , after the coffee and brandy , already anticipating the familiar pleasures awaiting me . 
Lee did not demur , and I gathered from Nigel 's expression that he had presumed that his other guest , even if of so recent acquaintance , would approve of , and even appreciate , his usual " arrangements " . 
After I had showered , I found that the girl I had looked at was in the bedroom , making a pretence of tidying my clothes . 
I got under the mosquito-net and lay there in my sarong , waiting for her . 
Patiently , precisely , she folded the last garment and put it on the chest of drawers . 
Then she turned out the light and , without saying a word , took off her ke5baya and , unwinding her sarong , moved it up from her waist to over her breasts in the sleeping position . 
There was just enough light seeping through the windows for me to watch her . 
Then she came to the bed , and I lifted the mosquito-net for her as , still without a word , but with another barely audible giggle , she lay beside me . 
Without further ado she began the assiduous and almost energetic routine of love-play . 
For such a leisurely race in almost everything else — not only leisurely , but renownedly lazy — the Malays , surprisingly enough , have a sort of energetic deliberation for their dancing and love-play , but which is not to be mistaken for ardour . 
" Chantek , " I murmured obligingly , not really meaning it , nor really caring whether she was beautiful or not , but only glad to know that she kissed in the Western fashion and not just as Moslems do . 
I kept her mouth busy so that I would not have to go through the usual long and boring rigmarole of being told what her name was , who her parents were , where she was born , where she had lived — and especially the list of names , displayed like a string of beads , of all the white tuans she had slept with . 
But , as I succumbed to the lewdness of her skilled ministrations , I could not help wondering about young Lee 's reactions to " the arrangements " . 
He in turn was probably wondering , I supposed , if this was the kind of hospitality he could expect in every bachelor 's bungalow in which he might find himself as a guest . 
But , even in Malaya , not all of them are Nigels . 
My companion of the night was gone when I awoke in the morning . 
Nigel has them well trained , I thought to myself . 
I dressed quickly , curious to see how Lee had reacted to it . 
I expected , or even hoped , that it would " unbend " him a little . 
I was surprised to find that he was not only dressed , but packed ready to continue the journey . 
He was pacing up and down the living-room with obvious irritation . 
Nigel was not yet down , and Lee looked decidedly relieved when he saw me ; wished me an almost grateful , but still polite , good morning . 
" Did you sleep well ? " 
I enquired , deliberately turning away from him a little to look through one of the windows . 
" I kicked her out ! " he said perfunctorily . 
The tone of his voice quite astonished me . 
Turning , I saw , with surprise , and again with amusement , that he was standing rigidly in the centre of the room , his arms held stiffly to his sides , almost like a child playing soldiers and standing to attention . 
His eyes penetrated mine with a fierce fixity , and his cheeks were inflamed with two small spots of bright red . 
" I think it was damned presumptuous , I must say ! " he declaimed hotly . 
And then , perhaps because he had become conscious of the slightly ridiculous pose he had struck , and this consciousness humiliated him , he slumped slightly , spreading his legs apart , almost like the child soldier standing at ease ; or , rather , standing easy . 
Yet , he might be wrong . 
A hope began to rise in his viscera . 
Perhaps he was mistaken . 
Perhaps the entry in Sylvia 's diary — she hated her mother ; she had been jealous of his attentions to her ; perhaps it was the hysterical invention of a child who herself in puberty had fallen in love with the nearest , familiar man . 
Perhaps that was the origin of her hatred which had then led him by her subconscious design to the diaries . 
The memory of Elizabeth , greeting him with her outflung arms , soared into his mind and with it the recollection of the bloodstained towel which he had held to her forehead . 
" Oh , God , " he thought , "perhaps I 'm wrong , " and with the thought came an unexpected hope like that of a man who , told that he has an incurable disease , hears that the pathologist had made a mistake in examining the tissue . 
Perhaps I 'm wrong . 
The hope became a music , and with it a compulsive need to see Elizabeth again , to hold her and to feel again their old safe love . 
"That ends our proceedings , " said the Chairman , and the Members rose with a shuffle and scraping of chairs . 
They began to leave the Committee Room like a pattern of the trends in the Party . 
Ormston stepped down from the dais into the central aisle , taking the longest route through the room to the Public Exit . 
He was greeted on all sides with friendly smiles . 
Members made a path for him , and he was quickly surrounded by a number of ex-Ministers who had retired to the back benches , a few knights of his recommendation , and a rank-and-file of younger Members whom he had encouraged with advice and expectations . 
Gore and a few of his associates in the New Africa Group became involved in this stream as it pressed towards the door like a debouching cinema audience , and they were regarded with the same indifference as members of cinema audiences reserve for each other . 
Melville moved towards the platform exit , together with some of the Party officials and Waters . 
He was followed by about half the Members in the room as if he were leading them into a plebiscite . 
They grouped themselves around him , smiling and demonstrative as if to show where their sympathies and loyalties lay , though no one addressed him personally . 
In the Corridor , the Chief Whip caught up with him , and said , 
"I thought the Chancellor settled Gore pretty well . " 
"Did you ? " 
Melville said . 
" I had a different impression ; I rather thought he was goading him . " 
"To abstain ? " 
"Yes , " said Melville . 
" There 's nothing he likes more than to frighten the Party . 
That 's the first step . 
Then he likes to come along and kiss it better . " 
He outdistanced his attendants with Waters , and said , 
"I 'll have to talk to the P.M .. 
Will you telephone and arrange for me to go down to Greystoke tomorrow ? " 
"Yes , " said Waters . 
" Are you lunching in the Members ' Dining-Room ? " 
"No , " said the Minister . 
" I want to walk across the Park . " 
He walked briskly without hat and coat , and soon felt himself sweating under the hazy , copper-coloured sky , heavy with the storm which had begun to rumble and crack beyond Buckingham Palace . 
The ducks had retreated to the reeds , and the water had black reflections . 
On the grass , couples lay stretched out , the men in shirt-sleeves , the women in sleeveless summer dresses , some engaged in what otherwise would have seemed coital preliminaries , were such activities not the normal convention of London crowds in hot summers . 
Others picknicked close by — the whole a picture of domestic living in the open air . 
As Melville walked , a thunderclap awoke the prostrate figures as if by the alarm signal of a gigantic clock . 
They rose . 
The women smoothed the creases of their dresses . 
The men languidly put on their jackets . 
And to the accompaniment of the first fat raindrops , they began to move swiftly away in pairs . 
The lake started to become dappled with rain , there was a dazzling flash , followed by a massive roll , and soon the Park began to scurry with figures running for shelter from the storm . 
As Melville walked , he heard steps splashing behind him . 
" Like a share of my mac ? " a voice said . 
He turned with the rain purling down his face to see Armstrong , who had quickened his step to keep pace with him . 
For a moment , he did n't recognise him . 
Then he said , 
" That 's very civil of you . 
No , thanks . 
I 'll just imagine I 'm doing a cross-country run . 
I 'll change when I get in . " 
"As you like , " said Armstrong , and was about to turn into a side path but Melville , thinking that he might have felt snubbed , said , 
" Come this way — then you can cut across . " 
"I used to play rugger , " said Armstrong . 
" I missed it when I gave it up . " 
"How old were you ? " 
"Thirty-six , " said Armstrong . 
" I 'm fifty-four now . " 
To make conversation , Melville asked a few questions about his family and South Wales . 
He liked his cadenced voice , his easy , undeferential manner and his pleasant , open face with the blue scar at the side of his head . 
" You 're having a bad time , " said Armstrong . 
" In Africa ? " 
"Yes . " 
"It 's pretty bad . " 
"Well , I 'm sorry for you , lad , " said Armstrong . 
They walked along without speaking with the rain streaming down their faces , and Melville wished that he had learned to know the Opposition back-benchers better . 
He wanted to talk to Armstrong , but he had difficulty in finding the language and so they walked in silence . 
But the leaves gave off a warm , soaking smell , the pain in his head lifted , and he felt refreshed . 
He changed his suit in his dressing-room into which a bed had been moved , and then knocked on the door of the main bedroom . 
Elizabeth was sitting propped up against the pillows , wearing a pale blue bedjacket over a white nightdress . 
Broome was sitting at her bedside , and greeted Melville with a broad smile . 
" She 'll live , " he said . 
" Do n't let the head-dress worry you . 
She likes wearing it . 
Thinks it makes her interesting . 
I 'll look in tomorrow . " 
When he had left , Melville stood by the window , looking out at the street , and Elizabeth turned her face into the pillow . 
After a minute of silence , Melville said , 
" Elizabeth — I must talk to you . " 
She did n't answer , and he faced her . 
On her bandages , there was a trace of blood ; her cheeks were pale ; and her eyes had heavy violet shadows beneath them . 
She was looking straight in front of her as she answered in a flat voice , 
" I have nothing to say to you . 
You are a very wicked person . " 
"I have something to say to you , " he said savagely , sitting on the bed and taking her wrists in his hands . 
" I want to know — I 've got to know — " 
She turned her eyes on him , and said in the same flat voice , 
" If you say again what you said last night , I 'll kill myself as soon as you leave the house . " 
He slowly let go of her wrists and rose from the bed . 
His gaze still held her expressionless eyes , and he withdrew to the door . 
Then he went to his study , his certainties complete . 
It was done , and nothing could ever change it . 
Nothing . 
Ever . 
He looked at a photograph of Elizabeth and himself taken on the Terrace a few years before , and suddenly , covering his face with his hands , he began to weep , the tears trickling through his fingers as they had done in his childhood when his father had died and there was no comfort in the whole world . 
CHAPTER TWELVE 
After lunch two of the Prime Minister 's grandchildren who had sat , rather intimidated by Ormston and staring at the Grinling Gibbons carving around the fireplace , rose gratefully from the table , leaving the two men together . 
A nurse came in , and asked the Prime Minister if he wanted to be helped out on to the lawn , but he waved her away impatiently . 
The Prime Minister was wearing a grey suit and a white shirt with a soft collar , but his neck had become thinner and the collar stood away from it as if it had been bought haphazard . 
His face had a jaundiced colour , and his cheekbones were red , touched with a feverish cosmetic . 
Only his voice was unchanged ; it was slow and thoughtful with its familiar , rehearsed calmness . 
He crumpled his table napkin , and laid it on a plate . 
" I see no urgent anxiety , " he said at last . 
" Perhaps I can put it this way , " said Ormston , " and now I 'm seeing the situation purely as Chancellor . 
Our reserves are low , and are getting lower . 
I feel rather like a father whose child is bleeding to death . " 
His simile disturbed him ; it evoked other associations , and he hurriedly drained the glass of water . 
The Prime Minister said nothing , and Ormston continued , 
" Let's leave out the political merits of the situation . " 
"Is that possible ? " 
"For the sake of my hypothesis — yes . 
I 'm thinking for the moment in plain , economic terms . 
We ca n't afford to increase our costs in Africa — we simply ca n't afford it . 
I do n't mean just our direct military costs . 
I 'm thinking of the African Boycott which is already working up . 
I 'm afraid , Prime Minister , you 're not going to like the trading position when you see it . " 
"I never do , " the Prime Minister commented wearily . 
The Chancellor was repeating an argument which he had already developed for an hour before lunch . 
" It comes at a bad time , " said Ormston . 
" A singularly bad time . 
The Party 's very restless , you know . " 
"It 's a sign of life — very encouraging ! " 
"The younger men — " 
" Which ones ? " 
" The younger ones like Gore , Vaughan , Hadley , Prebble , Lambert-Price — the New Africa lot — " 
" Do they confide in you ? 
Have you spoken to them ? " 
"Only at yesterday 's meeting — they 're very restless , Prime Minister . 
They feel that it 's very old-fashioned — shooting down mobs of natives . 
They 're very much afraid that if the Opposition get a Commission of Enquiry some rather dismal stuff is going to come out . " 
"Young back-benchers are always restive when they 're bored , " said the Prime Minister , and for the first time since his grandchildren left the table , he smiled . 
" Why do n't you give them something to play with ? " 
"They 've found their own toy , " said Ormston , " and this is it . 
They want to abstain next week . " 
The Prime Minister continued in his flippant tone , 
" Tell the Chief to give them a talking-to . " 
The Chancellor closed his eyes , and then said , 
" I think it 's gone beyond that , Prime Minister . 
They feel pretty strongly about Africa . 
They are greatly disturbed by the new and rather ugly image of the Party which our African policy is creating . 
On the whole , the country is still in favour of moderation and common sense . 
Melville has in a curious way made us look old-fashioned — extravagant — nineteenth centuryish — almost cranky . " 
"Do n't you think the British public has reveries of Britannia 's strong , firm hand ? " 
"I think the British public does n't dislike force provided that it 's short , sharp and rewarding . " 
They both laughed and felt relaxed . 
Then Ormston frowned and went on , 
" What the British public does n't like is violence that 's protracted , messy and expensive . 
At that point , you get a moral revulsion against force — especially if it makes taxation rise . 
I must tell you , Prime Minister — we 're heading for an ugly crisis — and I 'm obliged to say this — Melville has a very heavy responsibility in this matter . " 
"What could Melville have done to avoid all this ? " 
"Well , obviously , " said Ormston , taking up a pair of nut-crackers , "he boobed by talking to Julia Drayford — and that was the start of the whole thing . " 
The Prime Minister looked puzzled , and said , 
" Julia Drayford ? 
How does she come into it ? 
I ca n't follow these complexities — " 
" It is n't quite that . 
The whole business blew up from Melville 's disgraceful indiscretion to Julia Drayford in Mrs. M'landa 's presence . 
I do n't know the exact chain of gossip or who told who what . " 
As he turned aside his head , since he could not bear to look at her beautiful , pleading face , he was suddenly attacked by suspicion . 
" You wish to marry someone else ! " he cried in a voice roughened by jealousy . 
She sighed deeply , and looked away . 
" Do you ? 
Do you ? " he repeated , fiercely . 
" If , " she said gently , giving him a look that set his pulses throbbing , " if I wished to marry some young gallant , do you think I would ask your help ? 
You would be the last man I would ask . " 
Before he could collect his wits to reply to this , there was a bustle and confusion at the end of the room . 
Prince Doria had wearied of his toy and was packing it away in its painted coffer . 
The party was now preparing to see the tapestries , and in the general movement , Vittoria was separated from Orsini . 
Although neither of them wished to follow the sightseers , there seemed no alternative . 
As she was about to mount a wide and shallow flight of marble stairs , she became aware of someone watching her intently , and turning in that direction , she saw Olimpia , standing beside her admirer , Orlando Cavalcanti . 
The young man was bending over her with the assiduity of a lover , but the girl appeared to be more interested in her cousin 's wife , whom she was regarding through half-closed eyes . 
This was a slight shock to Vittoria , who had forgotten the existence of the girl , and , up to this moment had been unaware of the young man 's presence at the palazzo . 
" Are you enjoying yourself , Olimpia ? " she asked idly , tapping the girl 's cheek lightly with her fan , in passing ; but she did not wait for the answer . 
Disturbed by vague uneasiness , she was wondering whether Olimpia had been watching her talk with Orsini . 
Surely she could not have overheard anything they said ? 
A moment 's reflection reassured her on that point , for she was certain no one had been standing near them . 
However , something inimical in the girl 's look put Vittoria on guard . 
" { Santa Maria ! 
These spying eyes ! " she thought , bitterly . 
Doria was continually stopping on the way , to point out , with childish pride , objects of beauty or interest . 
Vittoria , on the fringe of the party , caught snatches of this information , which held no interest for her : " ... now this sapphire ... 
I like to think it may have fallen from the dark hair of the Empress Messalina , as she crouched in terror in the gardens of Lucullus , awaiting the sword of the executioner . " 
"Ah ! " exclaimed Farnese , with a snigger . 
" The old cuckold Claudius had the last word , after all . 
He knew how to deal with an adulterous wife , eh , Orsini ? " 
If the duke made any reply to this , Vittoria did not hear it . 
Now they entered the long gallery where they dispersed and wandered around , admiring and commenting on the glowing hues and barbaric splendours of the tapestries Doria had brought back from Lepanto . 
After a short interval , Orsini found an opportunity to rejoin Vittoria . 
" We must talk further , " he said in a low urgent voice . 
" Where ? " 
"Be careful , " she whispered from behind her fan . 
" Olimpia is watching us . 
The young man with her is Orlando Cavalcanti , Francesco 's friend . " 
Orsini shot an impatient glance at the couple . 
" The young man with the mole ? " 
"Yes , indeed . " 
"No matter . 
They are not looking at us . 
Now I must know , " he whispered , " what you meant , { cara mia . 
Do you want your freedom in order to marry ? " 
Before replying to this , she glanced hastily around , then spoke in tones so low that he had to bend his head to hear : " I will never be any man 's mistress . 
As to marrying again ... if I were free ... there is only one man I would wish to marry ... but ... he , like myself , is now bound . " 
With a swift gesture she closed her fan and moved away from him towards the group in the centre of the gallery , leaving him standing alone , against that glowing , barbaric background , with a deeply thoughtful expression on his face . 
Chapter Six 
On a bright unclouded morning a few days after the visit to the Doria Palace , the cardinal 's coach left the villa , lurched over the unpaved track and turned towards the ruined Baths of Diocletian . 
Vittoria , accompanied by her maid , Lucia , was on her way to the Accoramboni villa , ostensibly to pay a daughterly call on her father , actually to coax money from that indulgent parent to settle her mounting debts . 
Lucia was thinking how beautiful her mistress looked , and how cunningly the olive-green dress with its underskirt of rose-brocade fitted her perfect figure . 
Vittoria 's thoughts were more complex . 
The sparkling society of the Doria Palace , the flattery of Orsini 's obsession , the thwarted ambitions of her restless spirit , all threw into sharp relief the contrast of her grey life with the splendid one that filled her dreams . 
At the Villa Montalto she felt an alien , and although she had repeatedly urged Francesco to give her a separate establishment , he invariably pleaded his financial dependence on his uncle , who had built the villa for his family . 
He reminded her that they must abide by Roman custom , and dwell there with their relations . 
Her values were those of the materialist who assesses every human being in terms of fame , power and wealth . 
Francesco she despised for his dullness , his lack of initiative , his subservience to his uncle . 
Her husband 's gentleness and amiability , his unselfish love for her , she regarded as signs of weakness . 
He was a futile creature who had not even proved capable of giving her a child . 
Whatever passion she had experienced in the first months of marriage had been ousted by contempt . 
She had never loved him . 
Her thoughts rushed to Orsini . 
Since the meeting in the Doria Palace , no word had come from him , and this silence oppressed her spirits with a weight of misgiving . 
She had , perhaps , demanded too much . 
The kiss in the garden had plumbed unsuspected depths in her , and she knew that if she yielded to him , her passion could , indeed , match his . 
Every instinct urged her to surrender , for there was that in his nature to which her own had responded as it had responded to no other human being . 
Prudence , ambition and reason had held instinct in check , and they must dictate her course . 
There could be no compromise . 
For a brief interval she allowed herself the luxury of dreams . 
She began to imagine life at Bracciano , the balls and fe5tes , the conversation of poets and dilettanti . 
She visualized the pageantry of the tournament , and herself on the ducal dais beside Orsini , placing a chaplet of roses on the brows of some young conqueror in the lists . 
This reverie was rudely ended as the coach gave a sickening jolt and came to an abrupt stop , nearly throwing the two girls from their seats . 
Lucia uttered a cry of alarm . 
" Look , madonna , we are surrounded ! " 
It was true . 
Men armed with pikes and daggers swarmed about them and a lean , swarthy fellow was peering through the window , grinning impudently . 
" { Santa Maria ! " shrieked Lucia . 
" Banditti ! " 
Vittoria now realized that they were outside { Santa Maria degli Angeli , and that except for a few beggars crouching in the doorway of the church and exhibiting loathsome sores , the area was deserted . 
" They are not banditti , Lucia , " said Vittoria , pointing to the badge on the man 's shoulder . 
The words were clear . 
" Beware my hug ! " 
Lucia stared speechlessly at the golden bear ; Vittoria swiftly averted her head to avoid the impertinent glance of the retainer . 
Her thoughts at this moment were chaotic . 
The coach now turned in another direction , towards the wild and desolate region behind the baths . 
It was sparsely inhabited , dotted with fallow fields and terraced vineyards , and here and there jutted a brown outcrop of flower-wreathed ruins , a pathetic reminder of Rome 's former greatness . 
In this region of Monti most of the public baths had been built in the time of the Caesars , but with the breaking of the aqueducts during the barbarian invasions the baths had lost their purpose ; they had become stone quarries and their precious marble had been burnt for lime . 
Now escaped criminals and bandits used these quarries as hiding places , to the danger of travellers in the district . 
As they lumbered past at a rattling pace , Vittoria could see a wisp of smoke curling above the fire of a gypsy encampment and a few tatterdemalion creatures gathered about it , cooking their frugal meal . 
These were left far behind . 
An old man belabouring an overladen donkey , and a withered crone appeared on the horizon , were overtaken and forgotten . 
Except for their escort , Vittoria and Lucia might have been the only living creatures on an empty planet . 
After the initial shock , Vittoria felt calm . 
She knew exactly what she wanted , and was prepared to take it without scruple , if she could . 
What she had forgotten in her self-absorption in her own schemes was that other people were equally absorbed in their schemes , which were likely to run counter to her own . 
This move today was a reminder of that fact . 
Whilst she automatically patted the hand of the agitated Lucia , her brain was working rapidly , and she decided that she must be prepared to counter Orsini 's demands , difficult though that would be . 
She became aware that the pace was slackening ; now the coach stopped . 
The moment had come . 
Upon the ensuing interview the future would depend . 
Outwardly she was calm , but her heart was beating fast , and the palms of her hands were damp . 
Orsini 's high-crowned hat with its jaunty plume blotted out the light ; his hand was on the door . 
Glancing at Lucia he said in French to Vittoria : " Your maid ... is she reliable ? " 
She shrugged her shoulders , and replied in the same language : " Yes . 
But make it worth her while . " 
"I see . 
I know how to deal with people like that , " and turning to the cowering Lucia , he spoke in her own language . 
" Do you know who I am ? " 
"No , signor , " she whispered . 
" I am the Orsini . 
My word is law in Rome . " 
Lucia was regarding him as a rabbit looks at a stoat . 
Thrusting his head farther into the coach , he said sombrely : " Have you ever heard of a punishment called the cord ? " 
She blanched and shrank away . 
Was there not a street near Sant' Angelo called the Lane of the Corda where criminals were hoisted by their wrists forty , fifty , sixty feet into the air , and dropped again and again , until their arms were wrenched from their sockets . 
" You have heard of it ? 
The Orsini give that to traitors . 
There is no escaping the vengeance of an Orsini . 
We hunt a traitor down to the ends of the earth , and no power can save him ... or her . 
Do you understand ? " 
"Yes , signor , " she faltered . 
" On the other hand , " he continued , giving her a keen look , " the Orsini are generous to those who serve them faithfully . 
Remember that , my girl . " 
Lucia was beyond speech . 
He turned to Vittoria , sitting erect , with flushed cheeks and eyes sparkling with anger . 
" And now , madonna , " he said smoothly , " we will continue the conversation started at the Doria Palace . 
Be pleased to alight . " 
"I think , " she replied coolly , " I prefer to stay where I am . " 
"In that case , " he reverted to French , " I shall be obliged to lift you from the coach . " 
Without answering him , she rose , and bending over the agitated girl , said softly : " No one will harm you , Lucia . 
Remain here . " 
Ignoring his proffered hand , she stepped from the vehicle . 
" Will you be so good as to order your men not to molest my maid , " she said coldly to Orsini . 
" She is absolutely safe , " he replied ; but he turned , nevertheless , to the man who had peered into the coach , whom he had addressed as Luigi , and gave him sharp instructions on the matter . 
Vittoria stood looking about her , breathing the scent of thyme . 
The land at her feet sloped away into a tiny valley beyond which , on the crest of a wooded hill-side , the ruins of a small temple were etched against the clear blue of the sky . 
4 
LONDON Airport was an impressive monument to the air age . 
Its stately , although modernistic lines , made it a dignified portal to the capital , though visitors had to overlook various prefabricated buildings that were still in use . 
The immigration officials were courteous ambassadors , too . 
Vera , though international in outlook , could not help feeling parochial pride in the way they handled the passengers . 
She had not told Sir Arthur Nicholas the exact time or date of her arrival and so there was no car to meet her . 
But she did not regret it . 
In the large airport bus she had a better view of the London she had not seen for over two years . 
Nor had she told her parents that she was coming . 
It would have been too much of a disappointment to them if her plans had changed . 
For the first few hours she felt like a foreigner in her own London . 
It took time to become used to hearing so much English spoken . 
The London she savoured as she sped towards the air terminal was prosperous and sleek — so like the well-fed cats she saw sitting in the gardens and on the doorsteps of the trim suburban houses lining the way . 
Yet it struck her as odd that the shops in the suburban shopping centres resembled those of an English village . 
They were a reminder of the time when the districts had been little hamlets before they were swallowed up in London 's vast sprawl . 
She observed with approval that many stages of history were still written in the architecture of London . 
There were a few streets of opulent , Victorian houses , now sadly declining like gentlewomen in straitened circumstances . 
There were rows of workers ' houses built in the late nineteenth century . 
Some , now cheekily painted in gay colours , with pots of little trees on either side of the doors , had become the homes of young artists or writers . 
Houses were like people , she thought , sometimes up , sometimes down . 
At the air terminal Vera hailed a taxi and gave the name of an hotel off Curzon Street . 
It had once been a private home , and now was a dignified discreet place catering for people who could no longer afford to keep town houses . 
A few well-connected foreign scientists were usually to be found there , a diplomat or two and American tourists of the more conservative type . 
Vera had never stayed in a London hotel of any sort before and had at first intended to stay with her parents . 
But she decided she could not face it . 
She must avoid outside distractions at all costs . 
She must conserve her strength for the vitally important business meetings in which she would be taking part . 
London was like a sleeping princess , awakened to life and beauty by the kiss of the sun . 
Often its attractions were veiled , hidden by fog or dimmed by grey rain . 
But today the sun had broken through . 
As her cab sped towards the hotel , she planned an itinerary . 
She would visit her parents that afternoon . 
Tomorrow she would arrange to see Sir Arthur . 
After that , her schedule would look after itself . 
Her hotel room proved to be ideal for complete relaxation . 
It was elegant and neat and Vera adored tidiness . 
As soon as the porter had brought up her suitcase , she telephoned her mother . 
" Vera ! 
Where are you ? 
How wonderful to hear your voice . 
Are you really here ? " 
"Yes , mother dear . 
I 'm at Crewe 's hotel . 
How are you ? 
How is father ? " 
"Fine , apart from his lumbago . 
You can telephone him at his office . 
He does n't like it but this is a special occasion . 
When are we going to see you ? 
How long are you staying ? " 
The questions tumbled out . 
" Only two days , mother . 
I am here on business . 
I have a job now . 
I 'll come over in about an hour and tell you all about it . " 
"Is everything all right ? " 
Her mother 's voice sounded anxious . 
" Quite all right , mother . 
Everything is splendid — never better . " 
"Is Jacques with you ? " 
"No . " 
There was a pause . 
Vera knew at once that her mother was thinking there must be something wrong between her daughter and son-in-law . 
She said good-bye and telephoned her father who tried out his night-school French on her , very slowly and correctly . 
Vera often made mistakes in grammar when she spoke French but she spoke as fast as any Frenchwoman . 
Her father could never bring himself to do anything imperfectly . 
His favourite proverb was that if a thing could n't be done properly , it should n't be done at all . 
Therefore his French would always be halting . 
She telephoned Sir Arthur Nicholas and a crisp , cool , well-bred voice asked for her name . 
" Mr. Arzrumian 's secretary . 
I would like to make an appointment with Sir Arthur . " 
The secretary had been alerted to the impending visit of Arzrumian . 
" One moment , " she said . 
" Sir Arthur would like to speak to you . " 
Thirty seconds later , Sir Arthur said , " Welcome to London . 
Come to the office about twelve and we can have lunch afterwards . 
Or what about today ? " 
Vera answered , " I 'd like to see my parents first . " 
"Quite right , " approved Sir Arthur . 
Vera 's parents lived at Southgate and although the underground service was excellent , Vera felt justified in indulging in the luxury of a taxi . 
The house was one of a terrace and was kept spotless . 
Her mother often exuded , to Vera 's sensitive nostrils , a smell of carbolic soap and metal polish which were constantly in her hands . 
Hidden behind the curtains , her mother had been watching for her arrival . 
As the taxi drew up she ran out and hugged and kissed Vera . 
She held her at arm 's length . 
" How is my little girl ? " she asked oblivious of the fact that Vera was several inches taller . 
Vera felt that they were at once on a far better footing than they had ever been . 
Mother and daughter entered the house arm-in-arm and the questions began . 
" You 're so beautifully dressed , " she said and added quite inconsequentially , " ca n't you stay the night ? " 
"Not this time , " said Vera , " I have to prepare some notes for tomorrow . 
I have a very important business meeting . " 
"How is Jacques ? 
I 'm longing to meet my son-in-law . 
Are you really happy with him , darling ? " asked her mother , gazing at Vera searchingly . 
It had been her great regret that she had not been able to attend the wedding in Hongkong . 
Vera wondered whether it was her imagination or was there just a hint of hopefulness in her mother 's expression — did she wish to hear bad news ? 
Vera 's old irritation with her mother returned for a moment . 
" Everything is absolutely fine , " Vera assured her . 
" I have a wonderful job . 
I am secretary to Mr. Arzrumian . " 
"Arzrumian ? " echoed her mother . 
" Where did you meet him ? " 
"In Paris . " 
"Does Jacques approve of you taking a job ? " 
"Anything which makes money has his approval , " said Vera , tartly . 
Her mother said in scandalized tones that money was n't everything and thought how hard her daughter had become . 
The Brandons were working-class , without much money but she had never had to take a job . 
They had always managed and Mrs. Brandon could afford to scorn other people 's interest in money . 
Her father arrived at six o'clock , a library book under his arm as usual . 
After greeting him affectionately , Vera glanced at the title . 
It was Religion without Revelation , by Julian Huxley . 
" Dear , serious Father , " she said . 
She thought , " How much I love you . " 
How many railway employees read books on philosophy ? 
Her father had given himself a first-rate education by reading good books and remembering what was in them . 
He had left school at 14 but could have held his own with the most educated people . 
Vera had decided not to confide any of her business affairs to her parents . 
She did not want them to worry about her . 
Neither was daring nor held views beyond the rest of the people with whom they mixed . 
It had given them quite a jolt when she had married Jacques . 
Her mother was barely a generation removed from people who considered that a foreigner in the family was not quite respectable . 
Vera spent a happy evening . 
Her father proudly took her round his little garden for , next to philosophy , gardening was his hobby and every flower in the small rectangle was carefully watched and lovingly tended . 
At last , it was time to say good-bye and both mother and father escorted her to the Underground station . 
As Vera went down the escalator she looked back and her parents were still waving to her . 
She felt strangely moved at the sight of the two elderly figures above her . 
The train roared in with a rush of pungent air . 
Vera sat down on her comfortable seat , closed her eyes and thought a little sadly about her parents . 
Green Park station was only a short walk to her hotel but the streets had not yet been cleared . 
Several young women in eye-catching well-made clothes stood at every corner . 
One or two spoke to each other in French . 
An expensively dressed little man turned a corner and approached Vera . 
" How much do you charge , dear ? " he asked . 
Vera looked contemptuously at him . 
" More than you could afford , my good man . " 
She stalked on , wryly amused . 
Reaching her hotel , she was overjoyed to find a huge bouquet of flowers , with a vase placed beside it , already filled with water . 
On the card was written : " From " Arsenic " to Mrs. Vital , our devoted secretary . " 
So Sir Arthur was a gallant as well as a shrewd businessman ! 
Next morning , Vera walked through the Park as far as Buckingham Palace , and down to the ornamental lake . 
She found it exhilarating to be back again . 
Although it was early in the year , tourists were wandering about already . 
A group of people was watching open-mouthed the sentries in their scarlet uniforms outside the gates of the Palace . 
Americans posed for their pictures with the Palace as a background . 
It was extraordinary how attractive Americans found royalty and nobility . 
She looked at her watch and decided it was time for her appointment with Sir Arthur . 
There was no doubt Sir Arthur was pleased to see her . 
No doubt , too , that he had been conducting a test of " Hairmone " . 
His head was covered with coppery red hair which made him look many years younger . 
It was about an inch long — long enough for a crew-cut . 
" I am very grateful , my dear , " said Sir Arthur , running his fingers through the thatch . 
" I never thought it would happen to me . " 
If Sir Arthur had hesitated about going into business with Vera , he was now her staunch ally . 
" This , " said Sir Arthur , tapping his head , " is going to convince that obstinate old buzzard , Eric Selby , to join us . 
He 's a hard-headed Yorkshireman and we need his advice . 
He 's involved in several of my business ventures but I have to twist his arm to make him take on new commitments . 
That , " said Sir Arthur , " is the penalty of success . " 
They left for the Savoy when Sir Arthur had signed more letters and Eric Selby was waiting for them . 
He looked from Vera to Sir Arthur and was astonished and amused at the same time . 
" Arthur , " he whispered on the way to the table , " what 's the idea of the toupee ? 
And why red ? " 
"Toupee be damned , " said Nicholas . 
" I 'll tell you about it at lunch . " 
Vera sat opposite Eric Selby . 
She had already noted that he was of medium height , very thin and gave an impression of greyness . 
Now studying him more closely , she saw that greyness was the dominant characteristic of the man . 
He had thick , rather long , grey hair . 
" Not a future client for " Hairmone " , " she thought to herself . 
He wore a grey Savile Row suit of exactly the same colour as his hair . 
His eyes were greyish-blue — the colour of a winter sky . 
He wore heavy framed glasses , which gave him a professorial look . 
If accents have colours , his was grey , for he spoke with a north-country voice . 
" What 's that ? " she said , loudly , as if by speaking he had released anger which she had been gathering against him all the time he had been standing next to her . 
Keeping his face completely serious Dr. Horn swayed two or three inches back then forward as if a wind had struck him . 
She took a deep breath and gave her thick neck and shoulders a shake which she probably thought a convulsive shudder . 
" If you 're suggesting that Martin is n't old enough ... " she said in a new low voice of drama . 
She found no difficulty in assuming for convenience that the attack she had begun on Martin had n't happened . 
He was ashamed of the way she credited other people with her own short memory . 
He went past them into the narrow hall . 
He hesitated at the stairs , knowing they had turned to watch . 
He needed some warning of what he would find . 
He could imagine his mother saying later , " If only I had had the sense to tell you not to disturb him that first evening . " 
He went past the cream banisters , down the passage to the kitchen . 
He stood near the gas cooker . 
Behind him in the hall the doctor said , " Mrs. Mason , I do n't want to worry you ... " then they passed into the sitting-room and closed the door . 
He had begun quickly , as if , now that he had to talk , he must do it before she could question him , bringing confusion to the subject . 
When Martin stood in the hall he could hear him going on speaking to her , but not what he was saying . 
He could hear his balanced speaking and the short level snubs he gave her interruptions . 
He could hear the way that she went on interrupting because she was n't understanding that he was snubbing her . 
Presently she started to talk and he was letting her . 
They had turned towards the door and he heard the doctor say , " That 's what I said , Mrs. Mason . " 
After she had said a lot more he said , " No , Mrs. Mason , that was not what I said . " 
He went back down the passage to the kitchen . 
When he heard her coming he went to the far end of the deal table and sat against it with his back to the door . 
" It 's a stroke , that was what he was meaning . 
He would n't say it , but I could tell . " 
Martin kept still , facing away . 
" How serious ? " 
"Oh , he would n't tell me that . 
Good gracious me , no ! " 
"You ca n't remember anything he said ? " 
"I tell you I can remember very well indeed ... " 
She thought that as usual he was trying to make her seem stupid . 
He wondered how to persuade her that she was wrong . 
" I 'll go up . " 
He stood waiting , expecting her to stop him . 
She said , " This is the time we should have someone we could trust . " 
He went round the deal table on the far side from her , down the passage and upstairs . 
He wondered whether she might cry because of this rude way he had left her and knew that if she cried she would make it loud enough for him to hear . 
One of the triangular stained-wood stair-rods had come away from its lacquered brass clip . 
He did n't like to think how it had happened . 
On the half-landing he stood near the porthole window . 
The engine of the doctor 's car revved loudly in the drive as if he controlled it clumsily . 
The headlights came on , lighting up the circle of window with the two-inch orange border . 
She had often complained about his father 's choice of doctor and knew now that she had been right . 
He understood why his father had chosen him . 
He could only bear to have a doctor who did not take the absurd business too seriously , who realized that the whole sad joke of men living for only seventy years was made worse if you treated it as anything else . 
On the upper landing he stood in front of his father 's door , not sure whether to knock . 
Something moved behind him . 
She was standing halfway up the stairs , so that her head was on the level of his feet . 
" That 's right , " she said . 
He could not think how she got there without making a noise . 
She usually went upstairs heavily , lifting her knees sideways as if her feet were weighted , frowning at the effort . 
She had never reconciled herself to things which hurt her , and sometimes he was frightened that when bad things began to happen she would have so little habit of optimism to support her . 
Or perhaps she might never understand that they were worse than going upstairs . 
" What is it ? " 
"That 's right , " she said , this time raising her arm in the long-sleeved blouse to point . 
He opened the door and went in . 
There was a low light on a chest of drawers . 
The two beds were at the far end with their feet towards him , one flat , the blankets on the other raised in a narrow heap . 
His father lay on his back . 
His chest was curiously high and sharp like a pigeon 's . 
He wore a thin dressing-gown but most of it was under the bedclothes . 
His face was white and a little shiny , as if damp . 
It was turned away , so that for a second Martin thought he was asleep , but his eyes were open . 
His father did n't move his head but after a second he turned his eyes . 
He seemed to make no effort to speak or even smile . 
Presently he turned them back . 
Martin doubted if he had turned them far enough to see him . 
It was so unlike him that he could not understand it . 
He knew now that he had expected his father to accept this with the same smile that he accepted everything else . 
Suddenly he had an idea of how much worse it might be , that his father was lying here alone and terrified by what had happened to him . 
He wanted to say something to prove it was n't true . 
He put his hand on to the bedclothes where he thought his father 's shoulder might be . 
There was something below and he pressed it gently , trying with all his power to convey the sympathy he felt . 
His father gave no sign that he had noticed . 
Perhaps it had been a lump of the pillow . 
He went quickly to the door . 
When he came on to the landing he heard his mother telephoning in the hall below . 
" Of course , he may have been feeling ill for weeks and said nothing ... 
Well , it would be just like Herbert ... 
That 's right ... 
Not at the moment , not one word ... 
Of course , dear . 
As soon as there 's anything fresh ... " 
A nurse came three times a day and sat his father up to feed him . 
He let this happen but had no appetite , and the plates she brought down to the kitchen often had white mouthfuls of steamed fish which he had chewed but not been able to swallow . 
It was difficult to tell whether he was unable to speak or whether he could see no point . 
Sometimes he started to say things in a hoarse whisper , looking ahead as if there might be people to either side who would stop him , but never got further than one or two words . 
Most of the time he lay on his back with his eyes open . 
After three days there seemed nothing Martin could do and he went to the office again . 
They had given the speech to Burridge . 
They would be able , later , when time had become a little confused , to explain his failure by his father 's illness , if they wanted to . 
When he came home in the evenings he sat in the chair by his father 's bed . 
At first he asked cheerfully how he was feeling , but these questions , left unanswered , seemed to lead only to the bad answers they might have had . 
He did not like to talk about other things , because he could understand their terrible irrelevance to everything his father must be feeling , and knew , when he mentioned the new morning schedules on the Alton line , that he was only showing him how completely he was failing to understand . 
He had an idea his father would have liked to hear him say hopeful things about his work , but they would have been too different from his usual silence . 
Sometimes he went away quickly , sometimes he sat for quarter of an hour , saying little . 
The weather had changed and outside the window strong winds swayed the heavily leafed chestnut tree in the dark summer evening , sometimes showing the wet concrete of the house next door , sometimes when the whole top was driven sideways by a violent gust showing the grey clouds moving fast above . 
He wanted badly to tell him how sorry he was for the hard , offhand way he had sometimes behaved to him . 
He found himself more and more surprised that any person could bear to be hard to another . 
He thought of the years a long time ago when his father had seemed happy . 
There had been a feeling of hope then which had gone later . 
Things had not been settled in the poor way they later became settled . 
He remembered a time when they had gone to stay with the Bowerses and Bowers had been building a mud wall , some rustic craft he had discovered . 
He remembered the planks set up to form a mould for the wet mud . 
Though he could only have been four or five he could remember Bowers ' enthusiasm and amusement , and how his father had responded to this and how as they had wheeled the barrows of sloshy mud they had sung songs which he now realized had been parts of some opera they half knew and half could not remember . 
Bowers had sung the male voice and his father the female , both doing it with great seriousness which was half mock half real . 
Later he could remember the vicious things his mother had said about Mr. Bowers . 
He had not questioned that he must believe that he had always been wicked . 
His father had not said these things but he had not contradicted them . 
He had been told that there had been a mistake and his father had been blamed when it had been Mr. Bowers ' fault . 
He could remember how he had not been able to understand why his father did nothing about this . 
" But why do n't you tell them ? " 
It had all seemed so simple but his father had shaken his head . 
After that there had been another job , then quite soon the war . 
It sometimes seemed to Martin that this had been the best time for his father . 
Being compelled to do a job which there was no point in questioning and no chance of failing at had suited him . 
When his father told stories about the war a curious happiness came over him which the stories themselves did not explain . 
There had been one about helping to break all the bottles in a bar in Cairo and waking up there next morning laid out between two chairs with nothing on but his boots , which his mother had particularly disliked . 
Once his father had shown him a small automatic pistol from the war and he had hoped for a moment to learn something exciting . 
" Did you capture it ? " 
His father shook his head , smiling a little at something the question had made him remember . 
" Did you find it ? " 
He shook his head again . 
" Someone gave it me . " 
Martin had not liked to go on questioning him , suspecting that this would be an intrusion on some private memory which he wanted to respect . 
After the war his father had gone to his first advertising agency but he had not liked it . 
There had even been a time when he had left it to take up tutoring and there was still a box of school textbooks in the attic . 
He fell morosely on the bed . 
She came over and sat down beside him . 
How old are you ? 
Twenty-four — and fully grown as others can tell you . 
Well , I 'm twenty-seven . 
Still young in years perhaps , but pretty old in hours I can tell you . 
If I thought you were really in love with me I 'd never tell you , but as you 're only in love with love I will . 
You 're inexperienced and that 's the truth . 
Thanks for nothing . 
Do n't get huffy . 
Why do men always think they 're great lovers by nature . 
To copulate is natural , to make love 's an art . 
And I 'm no artist ? 
On the contrary ! 
All men are , but , like all artists , they need training . 
I 'll roll up at the Polytechnic . 
Liszt and Tchaikovski were born geniuses but they had to learn how to read and write notes . 
Love 's a natural act . 
So 's singing and dancing — but they still need training . 
To a woman the preliminaries of love are the most important and that 's where art comes in . 
You have to learn what women like before you can bring out the best in them ! 
I 'd have thought that pretty obvious . 
Do n't be vulgar . 
Is n't it vulgar to want ... 
I do n't know what things you do want ! 
No . 
The body needs food — but you cook it to enjoy it as well . 
The body needs physical love for many reasons but prefers it served with attraction . 
What else can a man do ? 
Boy , are you kidding ! 
Ah well , our love affair was short if not sweet . 
You mean you do n't want me any more ? 
Do n't tell me you 're willing to sacrifice yourself again ? 
For answer she pushed him back against the cushions and brought her face very close . 
Do n't you want to kiss my lips ? 
Anger and desire fought within him , blow for blow . 
Her red mouth came closer and brushed against his lips , light as a feather . 
Her voice came soft and sweet as a marshmallow : 
Just brush them like this and this ... and this ... you 'll feel the blood pulsing ... do n't attack a mouth as if you 're dipping a mop into a slop-bucket ... always go much slower than you want to , it increases desire ... 
And Desire came up with a straight left and Anger staggered ... 
Her lips parted and the tip of a pink tongue came slowly out and caressed his mouth from corner to corner , deliciously slow , back and forwards , slipping in a fraction of an inch and out again to the rhythm of a drum that had started somewhere inside his head . 
Her voice was a gentle murmur , caressing him with words that were as sweet as they were naughty and nonsensical . 
Desire followed up with a couple of nasty rights to the face of Anger , who gave at the knees . 
Her head moved slowly , her lips and tongue spoke a language he understood without having learned it . 
Her tongue went in deeper and touched his own , gliding round it , pulling it in and letting it go . 
Desire uppercutted neatly and Anger took the full count . 
He looked up into her eyes and saw the immeasurable depth of eternity that God has put in there for man to lose himself in . 
He 'd taken over now and was looking down at her as she lay on his bed . 
Her voice murmured on , soft and caressing as a kiss : 
Look at my throat ... do n't you want to kiss it ... to follow its lines and taste my skin ... 
He forgot time and place . 
He , the master , was gently led along erotic paths which he knew existed , but had never trodden . 
He learned how to use his hands , how to adore that body without haste , how to caress every inch with his mouth as well , to creep down along her smooth muscles till he lost himself in a rapture of kisses in places he 'd dreamed of , where life began to ooze and quickened his heart beat to a thunder . 
He looked at her . 
Head thrown back in a pool of hair , her blood-red lips parted and the beating of her heart in the full throat . 
Her mouth did things he thougt no human being could stand without dying , but he went on living in an ocean of voluptuousness , that swelled and ebbed over him , under him , in him and through him ... 
He was having a ball ! 
He twiddled the TV set with shaking hands . 
She sat calmly on the bed smoking a cigarette . 
His face was white with two red blotches . 
Hers was flushed and lovely . 
O.K. teacher ! 
Was that any better ? 
You know it was ! 
You do n't need teaching , only a little coaxing . 
He sat down and ran his finger down along her spine . 
Do you love me now ? 
Like yesterday ! 
I 'm extremely fond of you . 
The fact that you 're beginning to satisfy my physical wants does not change that . 
Before long you 'll give me the satisfaction that 'll set me rocking on my feet , but I 'll still be only fond of you . 
But you would n't marry me ? 
No . 
I 'm not your type . 
I 'd make you miserable . 
I mean that . 
I 'd very probably be unfaithful and that 'd kill you . 
Then I 'd be unfaithful too , to teach you a lesson . 
It would n't work . 
You 'd do it to spite me . 
I would never do it for that reason . 
To me it 'd be immaterial whether you 'd retaliate or not . 
You 'd go crazy if that situation arose . 
Pretty conceited , are n't you ? 
No , truthful . 
You 're the faithful type . 
You 'll marry a darned attractive girl and you 'll never tell her of me , but you 'll be grateful because you 'll be able to give her all she wants by day and night . 
And that 's a lot , considering that 60 per cent of all married women in the West never get full satisfaction . 
Mostly because 40 per cent never expect to get real pleasure out of it and are convinced it 's their duty to suffer the husband , and 20 per cent because they never dare talk or do it by daylight . 
They do n't dare tell a loving husband they only begin to like it when he 's already had his fun and prepares for sleep . 
They do n't dare tell him to find out what she wants . 
They do n't know that tastes differ just as much in sex as in anything else . 
It 's man 's duty to find out and experiment . 
O.K. Now look in your tea-leaves again and tell me what 's in store for yourself ? 
Have I never told you ? 
End of the year I 'm marrying Mason , the sculptor . 
His affair with Charlie was the best period in his life so far . 
Sheila , who was a disconcertingly observant little pigeon for all her reserve and innocence , once hit the nail fully on the head when she said he looked as if he had everything he wanted in life except money . 
That was true enough — for a while that is ! 
He 'd thrown his pride to the wind and accepted Charlie 's superiority in seduction . 
And it was hard to imagine a prettier teacher . 
Nothing gave him greater pleasure than to watch his improvements in her face , when she would genuinely sigh and toss her lovely head in sweet agony . 
To observe the colour rise in her cheek and hear her breath come faster , to see the slight beads of sweat come out on her glistening skin and see her move with uncontrolled rhythm . 
To have her twist in an attempt to receive a caress he was purposely withholding , to hear her deep-throated moan of full satisfaction and feel her shivering , clawing surrender . 
Not so dusty , she might say afterwards , drawing at a cigarette . 
It 's a wow ! he said . 
She kissed him motherly : 
You just wait till you teach the girl you really love . 
He did n't protest any more to say he loved her because he knew it to be untrue . 
Instead he said : 
Will that be better ? 
She nodded : 
It 's man 's nature to teach and to teach those we love is double pleasure . 
And she might add : 
And do n't forget to leave the lights on . 
You lose half the fun when you fumble in the dark . 
She had many direct comments like that . 
Once she quietly pushed him back when he kissed her too fully and too soon : 
Oi , not yet , you oaf . 
What do you think my mouth is ? 
A billposter 's bucket to be plunged in at random ? 
He 'd learned to laugh when something went wrong or the situation became ludicrous , as when they were both caught in the raw when he 'd forgotten to lock his door and Derek had walked in unexpectedly . 
They 'd just had time to nip into the bathroom and stood there shivering for fifteen minutes while their guest was smoking a cigarette waiting for him . 
At last Derek got tired and left . 
Just in time , erupted Charlie . 
If he 'd stayed any longer I 'd jolly well have asked him to join us . 
I 'm so darned cold I could do with two men . 
You perverted sex-maniac , you would n't dare . 
Show me what you can do and I 'll tell you if you need help . 
Once he came back to the subject of her marriage and asked her why she was going to marry her sculptor . 
Because I love him , of course . 
What do you think ? 
But he 's a lot older , is n't he ? 
I suppose so . 
What attracts you ? 
It ca n't be physical ? 
Of course not ! 
I love him for what he is — he 's so great I 'm a bit scared of him — a woman must be a bit scared to be really in love . 
That 's why you could never love me ? 
Correct , ducky ! 
You just wait till you meet the girl who thinks you 're a god . 
It 'll make you feel like one ! 
You think that sculptor 's a god ? 
Perhaps , in a way . 
All I know is that I need him . 
He kissed the heart beat in her throat . 
But how about the physical side ? 
You 're quite an erotic little beast ; can he satisfy that ? 
You youngsters always overestimate yourselves . 
You can take it from me that he can and does . 
But even if he were impotent I 'd still love and want him . 
There are sides to me you 'll never know . 
Do n't you feel guilty living with me ? 
Often ! 
Do n't you ? 
Mary had married her bill broker some time ago and he now shuddered when he remembered the clinical weekends he used to spend with her . 
He often used to try to imagine her reactions if he had once treated her as he did Charlie , but his imagination failed . 
The efficient little Mary would probably have called it a shocking waste of time and told him to get down to business ! 
Charlie , who was perfectly at home at all sorts of artistic circles , had amongst others wangled him a membership ticket for a small club for artists only . 
It was situated in the attic of a huge old-fashioned house and lit by candle-light , which made it seem very romantic through a glass of something or other and which made it impossible to check bills very carefully . 
Charlie and he sometimes went there for a meal and a dance . 
The food was good and the three men in the corner made just sufficient noise on a piano , an accordion and a set of drums , to enable the patrons to cling together and call it dancing . 
There was never any rock and rolling at the Chipsteak Club . 
Its members did not care for physical exercise . 
There were a number of hostesses who changed constantly . 
They certainly did not belong to the class of hostesses usually associated with small clubs ; on the other hand , many a member had often found them very amenable if given sufficient time — and attention . 
Charlie knew practically every one there , from the big Irish painter who sat glued to his corner every night from opening at eight till closing at one-thirty , to the latest addition to the staff of hostesses . 
These girls soon lost interest in him when they found he was neither a painter nor an assistant film-producer and left him alone to contemplate the motley lot from a corner . 
She had forgotten that she had already told him about the man who was the hero in another context that could not , by any stroke of circumstance or fate , be linked with what she had now concocted . 
It had been calculated to place her in a romantic light , but all it did was to make her seem more pitiable — and for that he could have hated her . 
He liked her brash and vulgar , the teller , as she had occasionally become , of dirty stories , because it was as chummy and uncomplicated as being with another man in a bar . 
He did n't take her home that night ; he made the excuse — lies were contagious things — his car was in dock . 
Instead , he telephoned for a taxi for her — which he would pay for when he saw her into it outside . 
While they were waiting for it , she said , " Have you met your neighbour yet ? " 
They were in the entrance hall , and a car had driven up , out of which stepped a grey-haired woman in a Persian lamb coat — but it was not his neighbour , not the one Thornie meant . 
For a moment , he had thought it was , but that woman was less tall and also younger . 
" No . " 
"Seen her about at all ? " 
"Now and again . " 
The taxi came , and before Thornie got into it , she kissed him . 
" Give my love to your mother , " he said . 
His distinguished neighbour had never been alone when he had encountered her in the corridor . 
There was always her chauffeur with her , and sometimes her maid . 
He had not even wished her good morning — as was the polite custom between the tenants . 
She looked too damn haughty every time , with her head held high — and in her spiked heels she was taller than himself . 
Her eyes never once cast him the merest glance . 
Sometimes she affected the smoked sun glasses with the big blue frames she 'd worn the day of her arrival . 
But the morning after Thornie dined with him , around midday , he met Mrs. Longdon-Lorristone coming from the lift with the chauffeur . 
They had barely passed him when he heard her tell the chauffeur she had left something in the car , and that he was to go back for it , she could manage . 
" I 'm here , " she said , " and I 've got my key . " 
As the chauffeur walked quickly past him , James looked back , and he saw her standing by her door , fumbling with the key . 
She was carrying a big black crocodile bag , and she had a parcel as well . 
He saw the key fall from her hand , and her stooping to pick it up — and he heard her swear . 
He went back , retrieved the key for her , and opened her door with it . 
" Oh , thank you ! " she said . 
" I do n't think I know your name ? " 
"It 's Longdon , " he said , " I am a new neighbour of yours . " 
"Oh ! 
I have heard of you . 
Thank you so much . 
But — wo n't you come in ? " 
He looked at his watch ; he would be late for lunch down-town , but perhaps his guests could cool their heels for a little while . 
One of them was trying to interest him in launching a literary magazine — and there was no possible future in it , in a country with a population the size of Australia 's . 
The maid appeared , and took the parcel from her mistress , who said , " Leave the door , Frances . 
Mathew is on his way up again . " 
And then she said , " Oh , do come in , Mr. Longdon , unless you are in a hurry . " 
Her flat was pretty much what he had expected ; the apartment of a rich woman of taste , and his eye immediately alighted on a Degas . 
He remarked on it , and spoke of having seen her gift to the gallery . 
" My son , " she said , " has a Renoir , one I gave him when he married the first time , " as other women might speak casually of having given their sons a car they had no further use for . 
" Oh , do please sit down ! " 
She raised her voice then , and called out , " Frances , bring the sherry , please . " 
She sat down in a wing armchair , and when the decanter and two glasses were brought on a round silver tray , she said , " Will you pour your own , please , and one for me ? " 
James did so , and when he had put the glass into her hand , she said , "Will you please bring up the little table . 
I am stiff about the joints . 
I drop things — as you saw . " 
And she proceeded to tell him about her arthritis . 
He did not sit down ; he stood with his drink , sipping it , and studying her from top to toe — a woman remarkably well-preserved for her age , who might easily pass for one much younger . 
Beyond the mention of her disability , she gave nothing else away . 
Very correctly , she was handing out the polite but casual hospitality due to a new neighbour who had rendered her a small service . 
Challenged more by her correctness than by any encouragement to talk of any topic beyond the weather and how long he had been in Melbourne , he said , " You know my flat , do n't you ? " 
"Naturally , Mr. Longdon ! 
Was n't that a rather superfluous question ? " 
But she smiled . 
He took his leave of her then , and they shook hands . 
Hers was thin and bony , and very narrow across the knuckles . 
She did not get up from her chair . 
He did not encounter her again in the corridor , but he thought about her over the next ten days . 
Once , when her door was open to admit a caller , he heard the radio on ; and he heard it , again , late at night , muffled through that closed door and the supposedly soundproof wall . 
Then he telephoned her early one morning , and asked her if she would come and have a drink with him that evening , or any other that suited her . 
She said she was sorry , she could n't that evening , and she so very rarely went out in the evenings now . 
It was a decided rebuff , although her voice itself sounded pleasant enough , not cold and stiff , or off-putting . 
He said , " It 's not intended to be a party . " 
"No ? 
But all the same , if you will forgive me . 
It is very kind of you to have asked me . " 
And then , when he would have rung off , she said , " I suppose you have changed the flat a lot ? 
I know you bought the furniture , and I imagine you 've turned it round , because no one else 's arrangement ever suits one , does it ? " 
"I 've changed nothing , " he said , " except I 've got my own books and I 've got the desk by the window , instead of in the middle of the room . " 
"That should be an improvement . 
It was always too big for the centre of the room , but Sir Eric liked it that way . 
I think it gave him the feeling of being in his office — and more at home . " 
"Then , wo n't you come and see it all ? " 
"Sometime , perhaps . 
I will let you know . " 
He had avoided Thornie in her role of { 6femme fatale , but she went to a great deal of trouble to find him a book on old Melbourne , which he 'd casually told her he wanted to read and not been able to find in any library . 
She had finally unearthed it at the back of a second-hand bookshop , without any cover to indicate its title or its value to collectors , and she left it in a parcel on his doorstep one day when he was out . 
She must have hoped to find him in , as there was no letter with it , only an obviously hastily-written message on the outside , " With Thornie 's love . " 
So he asked her out to dinner , and they were back where they were before she concocted that fairy tale . 
Almost the first thing she said , was , "There 's a girl lodging with Mrs. Hogg who Stephen Longdon-Lorristone brought home one night . 
What do you think of that ? " 
He could n't think of anything , and so he said nothing . 
" She works in the hairdressing at Longdon 's , and he got her the job . 
He picked her up somewhere . " 
"That sounds very kind of him . " 
Thornie laughed . 
" Oh , you men ! 
Always stick up for each other , do n't you ? 
His kindness extended to taking her out to dinner and to his house for a drink after and bringing her back . 
Mrs. Hogg saw it all . " 
"What did she see ? " 
"Oh , I suppose them in the car together , and she did n't like it , even if it was milord . 
The girl 's only a kid when all 's said and done and from up-country too . 
You 'd think he 'd know his onions a bit more , would n't you , than to carry on like that ? 
He may find his wife cold . 
She looks it . 
A good-looker , mind you , if you care for that English type . 
I do n't often go down on the ground floor , but we get the usual discount on what we buy and I was getting stockings one lunch hour when she came through with all the kids in tow . 
It was the end of the holidays , and I suppose she was getting them new school clothes . 
She never wears a hat . 
That 's very English , and it 's caught on . 
Once no Toorak woman would have been seen dead down-town without a hat on . 
They used to look — and some of the old ones still do — as if they 'd got a lunch date with the Queen . " 
He wanted to say to her , " Do n't spread that story , Thornie . " 
But he was n't her keeper ; neither was he the guardian of the reputation of the Longdon-Lorristone family . 
He was n't , as she would have said , in their league . 
Among the acquaintances he had made — and he had made a good many by now — there was not one who could claim to know the mother , the son , or the daughter-in-law , other than by repute . 
About a week after hearing that piece of gossip from Thornie , his doorbell rang one night , shortly before nine o'clock . 
The sound of it , in its discreet little buzz , interrupted his reading . 
Putting down his book , he went to the door , opened it wide and saw that the caller was Mrs. Longdon-Lorristone . 
" I 've taken you , " she said , " at your word ! 
Although I think the suggestion was that I should telephone you first ? 
But if you are not alone , and I have come at an inconvenient hour , I will go away again . " 
"Please come in , " he said . 
She stepped over the threshold , partly leaning on a stick , and he shut the door behind her . 
In his surprise , speech had momentarily almost deserted him . 
He had been deep in his reading , and in another century , another world , and the adjustment to the present one had been slow to come . 
He was associating her with the character of a Byzantine empress , with conflicting tragedies being enacted over her head , Nemesis catching up with her , punishing her for her ruthlessness and selfishness and her passion for getting her own way . 
But what he saw was an ageing , hesitant Australian woman in her slow walk from the front door to the living-room , where she paused and said , " It is a great improvement , " meaning , he presumed , the desk he had moved near the window . 
He drew up a chair for her , and took her stick away , and offered cigarettes , asking if she would have a drink . 
She refused the drink . 
Then , disarmingly , she said , " I suddenly felt lonely . 
My maid is out . " 
She laughed . 
" I found I was out of cigarettes too ! 
Perhaps I smoke too much ! " 
It was the opening for a little discussion on the minor vices , as two shipboard companions might talk while occupying long chairs side by side . 
There is nothing like the shared confession of silly weaknesses to set a ball rolling . 
That was only the preliminary , for she wanted to know all about him ; not quite all , she was too polite , but the outline of his past , which he gave her as he had given it to Thornie . " 
You have seen it . 
The big white hat , the white swallow-tailed coat with the shiny braid , the ridiculous cravat — in action he looks like a Southern planter at a picnic . 
His stock of bottles was all set up on the wagon . 
He had n't yet begun to sell them . 
He had to inveigle his audience first ... " 
How I wish I had been there . 
These forests of the Congo could have seen nothing like it . 
The bland , self-assured voice enveloping his spectators in a cocoon of honey : commercialism seemed to be the last thing he had in mind . 
He 'd started his show . 
He had to seek the lowest common denominator of the audience . 
He was doing card tricks . 
Tossing out the aces , then picking them out of mid-air . 
It might have gone down well up near Lake Chad , where there is an Arabic influence — on these denser sons of Ham it had no effect at all . 
He went swiftly on to cigarette tricks . 
That was better . 
The audience hummed . 
Father Felix told me : " How he did it , I do not know . 
He puffed at a handful of lighted cigarettes , threw them all into the river and then retrieved them one by one from behind the ears of the crowd . 
They rubbed their heads confusedly to see where they came from . 
How does he do it ? " 
"Why did n't you watch ? " 
"I did . 
He drew a lighted cigar from out of my cassock . 
How embarrassed I was . " 
"It would have been interesting to see him try it on Agnes . " 
I spoke prematurely : he had something more dramatic for her in mind . 
And all the time that facile enchanting patter ... it was a kind of enchantment , was n't it ? 
" It was impossible both to listen to him and watch him closely , " said Agnes . 
" In the end we did n't really hear what he was saying , nor see exactly what he was doing with his hands . " 
Which suggests a very expert patter . 
There is the moment when the mass tension of an audience has suddenly to be heightened — the magician , like his brother the demagogue , must know when to turn the screw . 
Agnes said : " Of course , he was n't paying me any particular attention . 
But he was aware of me in the crowd . 
I had no wish to be drawn into his mumbo-jumbo ... " 
"Agnes , can we forget the personal aspect for a moment ? 
What did he do ? " 
"He produced a white chicken from his props . 
He held it up . 
It fluttered and squawked . 
He said to it : " Go , little bird , " and flung a cloth over it . 
When he whisked it away the chicken was gone . 
He began to call out , " Little bird , where are you ? " and came down from his wagon as if searching for it in the crowd . 
He stopped by me — I had n't the faintest idea of his intention — he slapped suddenly at my skirt , and I swear to you I felt with horror the flapping feathers between my legs . 
The chicken escaped from under me and I heard everybody hissing with shock . 
It was n't enough . 
He had to embarrass me further — he picked up an egg as if it had been freshly laid . " 
"I 've seen that trick performed in the Bobino in Paris ... " 
"The natives have never been to Paris . 
The effect on them was staggering . " 
Father Felix said disturbedly : " One must n't take liberties with people who are so susceptible to magic , What makes us laugh — these music-hall illusions — can literally petrify them . " 
Did it matter ? 
The chief and his wives , his sons Shadrach and Meshach , had approached the fringe of the crowd . 
Joe Moses opened up a large coloured box to show that it was empty . 
He called out : 
" What shall we have for supper ? 
Sucking pig ? " and persuaded one of the women to throw a cheap bangle into the box . 
More incantations . 
He tossed the box over the heads of the crowd . 
It burst open as it landed and a young pig squealed and ran out into the forest . " 
I have n't seen that one in the Bobino . 
Then swiftly the { 6pie3ce-de-re2sistance — after all , he had to get down to the business of unloading his bottles . 
He must have prepared one of the boys : the young black imp popped gigglingly into a crate . 
That one I have seen . 
A few mock pistol-shots into it . 
A sabre slammed fearsomely through it in all directions . 
The natives suddenly expectant of tragedy — but the crate opened and the young imp of mischief came waddling out . 
Agnes said with sudden pleasure : " But he 'd been too smart . 
He 'd undone himself . 
When he started his sales talk ... " and she began to mimic him ironically : " " My friends , I have here the age-old remedies of the famous Shoshone Indians , the essences that made them strong and virile ... " nobody in the crowd would even glance at his bottles . 
It was as if he 'd bewitched them . 
They were frozen into inertia . 
He went about trying to interest them in his Shoshone cure-alls , but he might have been addressing black statuary — it was quite uncanny , his face fell . 
When he 'd gone the rounds he had n't sold a single bottle . " 
"Hoist with his own petard , " I said . 
" I did n't like it , " said Father Felix . 
" There was something about the tribe that troubled me . " 
"Joe Moses , too . 
Sales resistance troubles every business man . 
What did he do with his bottles ? " 
"Emptied them into the river . 
He was very angry . " 
"Perhaps the fishes 'll grow as strong and virile as the Shoshone Indians . 
Still , it must have been a wonderful show . " 
"He made a wonderful fool of himself , " Agnes said . 
It was fate , in fact , that was making fools of all of us . 
I said before that the stage had been set — it awaited the last theatrical prop . 
The curtain was now ready to go up . 
It only needed my personal attendance . 
I arrived with thirty soldiers and a display of armaments in three flat-bottomed river transports the following afternoon . 
Chapter Four 
These were n't the Kano gendarmerie . 
They were soldiers . 
Nothing as alarming as Caesar 's centurions — even with Springfield carbines it 's difficult for thin black shanks and tarbooshes to strike terror into the heart . 
But they were the best of our native levies . 
French N.C.O.s can whip neolithic African bowmen into military shape . 
It had given the Governor a bad half-hour of heart-burn before he decided to send them . 
They were equipped with a few light automatic weapons and tear-gas grenades . 
In command of them was a cold sous-lieutenant , a veteran of the Indo-Chinese war . 
I think he rather hoped for a small brisk action . 
He paraded his troops at the fringe of the village . 
Like the schoolmaster 's cane , every civilian administrator has to keep the idea of the military instrument at the back of his mind — but , when he first sees light machine-guns being assembled , his stomach goes cold . 
The sous-lieutenant was placing them strategically at the end of the street . 
And a silence fell upon the village . 
Nothing moved : not a child , not a rooster . 
Father Felix had seen the platoon marching by the mission . 
He came hurrying out . 
He cried : " But I never dreamt you were serious . " 
It was the nearest thing to rage I 'd ever seen in him . 
Agnes came palely behind . 
" They 've made it serious for me , have n't they ? 
Did you think I warned them so strongly just to exercise my voice ? " 
"Louis , you can not know what you are doing ... " 
"I 'm doing my duty as I see it . 
It 's that perverse chief . 
He has forced my hand . " 
"It is utterly unforgivable . " 
"It 's easy for you to talk . " 
He was making me feel both stubborn and guilty . 
" If anything goes wrong , there 's nobody but God to blame you . 
I have the Governor to contend with . 
If he jumps on me I 'm out of a job . " 
"But they have guns . 
Look . " 
He pointed . 
He could n't believe his eyes . 
" You must think I like the military sticking its nose in . " 
I said bitterly : " We spend our lives running things the quiet way . 
Then the army arrives — a blow , a false word — bang — suddenly there are shots . 
All right . 
If that 's the way they want it . 
But do n't ask me to clean up the mess . " 
Agnes said : " Get those soldiers out of sight at once . " 
"They have n't come here to play hide-and-seek . " 
"If they come a solitary step nearer ... " 
"Nobody wants to precipitate trouble . 
They 'll stay where they are . " 
Father Felix tugged incoherently at my sleeve — he took a step towards the two light automatic weapons perched in the dust at the end of the street . 
The sous-lieutenant had an eye for positioning . 
Suddenly one realised exactly what was meant by " covering fire " . 
I felt almost as nervous as Father Felix . 
I dragged him back . 
" Are you mad ? 
These are disciplined soldiers . 
They are n't Christians . " 
"What ? " 
"Your cassock would n't save you . 
If you interfered with them they would fire . " 
He said impatiently : " As if that matters ... " 
"It matters to me . 
The Governor would assassinate me . " 
I stared beseechingly at Agnes . 
She said to Father Felix : " Be still . " 
"I have the Governor 's written orders , " I said . 
" We 're to move the tribe out of the valley with the minimum of force ... " 
"How small is minimum ? " asked Father Felix . 
He 'd begun to sweat . 
I was n't answering that one . 
" All inhabitants are to be prepared for transit , all stocks , herds , movable goods . 
Compensation will be paid for unavoidable ... " 
"Stop waving that abominable paper in my face . 
I do n't object to them going . 
I only want them to go voluntarily . " 
"So do I. I do n't want them to have to swim . 
Will you show the chief the orders ? " 
"I have a tongue . " 
He stalked off . 
I was in bad odour with him . 
I watched the sous-lieutenant deploying his soldiers through the trees . 
Agnes said coolly : " You mean well , Louis . " 
Thank God for small encouragement . 
" But you 're a foolish busybody , if there are two ways of doing a thing , you 'll always choose the wrong one . " 
That was n't so encouraging . 
She went striding briskly towards the chief 's hut . 
The village had become of a sudden thronged . 
There were too many men : I strained my eyes , for the dazzle of the sun was painful and perspiration wetted my lashes , to see if they bore weapons . 
Children howled . 
An old woman advanced a few paces to shake her fist virulently in my face . 
I brushed her off like a fly . 
Yes , there were shields in the crowd . 
Except for hunting , they had n't used bows and spears since the mission had been planted in the valley : and now they were banging the stretched hide shields , it sounded like the boom of an approaching herd . 
The chief in his white coat was talking excitedly with Father Felix ... 
... and sweat , sweat like cold needles , sprang out on me . 
Something nosed like a gun-barrel into the small of my back . 
I jumped about . 
That wretched beast , the elephant , breathing inoffensively not a pace behind me . 
How silently it moved . 
Joe Moses sat atop of it . 
I peered up emotionally and said : " Do not ever do that again . " 
"Your nerves are in bad shape . " 
"Yours would be , too . 
Remove that creature from me . 
It smells . " 
"So the marines are here . " 
"What ? 
Yes , the soldiers . 
It 's the only way . " 
"When does the battle open ? " 
"You 're mad . 
This does n't concern you . 
Go away . " 
"You do n't listen , do you ? " 
"To you ? 
Who would ? " 
"I told you , a man does n't have to be big , does n't matter if he has a belly , " and again he surveyed me with cold languor , " so long as he has the sap in him to command respect . 
I should have qualified it . 
He has to have brains in his head , too . 
Remember what I said ? 
About not shoving a mule to water when ten sweet words will coax it along ? " 
"Your — what do you call it — cracker-barrel philosophy makes me sick . " 
"But better sick than dead . " 
"They 're a very obtuse people . 
There comes a time when one has to show strength . " 
"Suppose they resist you with strength ? " 
He had raised his voice above normal to address his friend . 
" I would be delighted to show Mrs. Egerton my collection , " Theodore replied . 
" Perhaps you would all come and have tea with me this week ? 
Perhaps — Thursday ? " 
He looked from Sylvie to Sonia . 
" Could you then ? " asked Sylvie . 
Sonia thought rapidly . 
Harold would be absent in Salonika for some days ; this made the arrangement of her own timetable much simpler . 
" I shall look forward to it very much , " she said . 
" And bring your icon with you , " added Andre2 . 
" We 'll pick you up on the way , " said Sylvie . 
There was a movement behind them and Hugo , who had disappeared for a moment , reappeared carrying a chair , which he placed beside Andre2 and invited him to be seated . 
" But , my dear boy — we must be going ! " exclaimed Andre2 . 
" Very kind of you — but we 're the last . 
Of course we could stay here talking and browsing among the books all night but I do n't think we 'd be very popular . " 
They looked round the room to discover that they were indeed the last there , except for the two men employed to keep an eye on the books and rearrange them after the visitors had left . 
They dispersed in the entrance but Sonia accepted a lift in Andre2 's car , which dropped her at her flat . 
Harold had not returned . 
She wondered uneasily where he could be , but since he rarely told her his plans this evening was no exception . 
She could not understand the nervousness that sent her wandering through the rooms , into the hall , back again into the drawing-room , out on to the terrace , until she was suddenly able to pin down its causes . 
Magda 's face hovered against the darkness , disembodied , panic-struck ; she could not eliminate it . 
She was afraid and could only hope that the girl had gone home to Erich who loved her , however hopelessly . 
The afternoon which had begun so promisingly with the friendly laughter in Andre2 's flat and the new acquaintances she had made through the French archaeologist , had turned sour since Harold and Magda had put their acid into it . 
She had also been made restless by the sight of Andre2 's and Sylvie 's pleasure in one another 's company . 
Envy mingled in her mind with regret for what she had missed and saw no chance of reaching in life . 
She wished she were old but with their security . 
CHAPTER 5 
ALTHOUGH she did not look forward to the occasion Sonia found it impossible to avoid an evening at Magda 's flat , especially since Erich had pleaded with her so anxiously to do what she could to befriend the girl , who tended to shut herself away completely from society and not only made them both unhappy but also damaged his chances of promotion by doing so , social life being part of their duty . 
Harold was to join them straight from the office as soon as he could get away . 
For once she was glad that he would be with her , because she wanted a chance to observe him with Magda in order to discover what was in his mind and how far she was under his control . 
The few minutes at the book exhibition had seemed to show that the girl was already dominated by him and ready to submit to all he suggested . 
They must have been meeting fairly often and she now believed that when Magda had left them after the bathe near Cape Sunion her appointment must have been with Harold . 
There was still a flicker of rebellion in her , however , and Sonia hoped to encourage this tiny flame . 
She walked over to the flat across a patch of uneven waste land that lay neglected between two blocks of modern houses . 
Poppies and coltsfoot grew in profusion , giving colour to the dreary area , and somewhere in the grass there must be edible leaves , for two old women bent over the ground plucking them and stuffing them into paper bags . 
She looked closely as she passed and saw that they were collecting dandelions and nettles . 
The women must have come far , for they were poorly dressed and did not belong to the prosperous neighbourhood . 
They looked up as she passed and , noticing her eyes , filled with curiosity , one of them said : " Salad ! " with a grin and waved a bunch of the tough , dark-green leaves at her . 
Were they driven by poverty alone ? 
By thrift ? 
By avarice ? 
She did not know , but the contrast between these two dark , bent figures collecting the hard , dusty weeds and the flowering gardens of plenty around them remained in her mind 's eye for some time and put her out of humour even before she had reached Magda 's flat . 
The young people had contrived to import some of their possessions from Germany and the flat was delightful with its golden-yellow cherrywood and ebony Biedermeier furniture and one or two modern pieces , including a rocking-chair with a high back that Magda had purchased after visiting an exhibition of pieces from Denmark some months earlier . 
As far as the plan of the flat was concerned Sonia felt at home in it immediately , for it had been built on the same scheme as her own and she knew exactly where kitchen , bathroom and bedroom lay , a disconcerting impression to have in a house she had never entered until that evening . 
An air of fussiness , however , was added by the innumerable little lace mats that covered almost every polished surface . 
Magda and Erich were both awaiting her . 
He had arranged to come home a few minutes earlier than usual and hurried forward eagerly to welcome her . 
His gratitude was painful and made her ashamed of her own lack of genuine warmth . 
It also , to her dismay , made the isolation into which Magda was gradually forcing him even more evident . 
Sonia and Harold coming to dinner was nothing more , after all , than a normal friendly event among neighbours , all more or less of the same age , and constantly drawn together through the various cultural and social activities in the city , but his attitude seemed to make a special occasion of it . 
" Tomato juice ? " he asked . 
" I added lemon juice to increase the vitamin content , " said Magda proudly . 
He brought her a glass and placed it carefully on one of the little mats , then carried one over to his wife . 
" I do n't know whether Harold will care for this , " he added uncertainly . 
" It will do him good , " Magda declared decidedly . 
" Magda does n't think alcohol good for the health , " said Erich apologetically . 
" But this stuff 's delicious , is n't it ? " he added eagerly . 
Politely Sonia agreed . 
It was , too — ice-cool . 
But she could not imagine Harold drinking it . 
" And what have you been doing since we met last time ? " she asked Erich , more by way of starting a conversation with him than from a desire to know . 
The smile died from his face . 
" I 've had rather a dreadful job , " he said . 
" I do n't know — . " 
He hesitated . 
" It wo n't interest Sonia ! " said Magda swiftly . 
If this were the only objection , Sonia felt obliged to encourage him . 
" Do tell me , " she said . 
" I know it is n't always fun having to work in an Embassy — I used to think it was one long cocktail party and an occasional exchange of " Notes " . 
The notes always made me see a little { 6billet doux on mauve paper being handed over in deadly earnest by one imposing Ambassador to another , equally serious , both wearing all their decorations , of course ! " 
"It is n't quite like that , " Erich smiled . 
" No — this time I 've been working on the German war-graves on Leros and other islands . 
The relations — you know — they want to know where their boys are buried and then they come out to visit them to lay wreaths . 
And they all pass through our office or the Consulate . 
Sometimes pleasant but moving experiences and sometimes very disheartening . " 
"These are Dienstgeheimnisse ! " 
Magda interrupted . 
" You know you must n't talk about them . " 
"Oh , I do n't think I 'm betraying any secrets , " said Erich . 
" No , there was even a note about the graves in one of the British papers recently , " said Sonia . 
" But in any case , my dear , do n't you think you could leave it to Erich to know what he may talk about and what not ? 
After all , it 's his job ! " she added impatiently . 
Erich gave her an astonished look in which gratitude and alarm were mingled . 
He was so comical that she almost laughed . 
" He 's not a child , " she added . 
" And it 's his profession . 
And he must be pretty good at it or he would n't be here in Athens already , but sitting in some awful little place in South America or on a Somerset Maugham kind of island in the Pacific . 
You with him ! " 
"Oh , but I 'm not so good as all that ! " 
Erich contradicted nai " vely . 
" But my father is — er — well , rather influential in the Party . " 
"Now , when I hear a German say " The Party " I always think of the Nazis , " Sonia laughed , " but I know it is n't that . 
Which one do you mean ? " 
"C.D.U . 
of course ! " answered Magda . 
Sonia sighed . 
" I 'm sorry , " she said , " but I do n't know what that means . 
Harold 's tried time and again to " put me wise " as he calls it , to European politics , but I never could remember what all those various complicated initials stand for . 
It 's almost as bad in England in Labour Party circles , though . 
I remember a woman who used to come to see my mother . 
She spoke only in initials . 
It was a kind of private , secret language . 
She would say such things as : " The T.U.C. wo n't let the I.L.P. do so and so and the G.W.R. and the N.U.J. have threatened to strike , " and — it was all Greek to me ! " she laughed . 
" It 's even worse with the French ! 
But I do think we could invent an abbreviated sort of shorthand-speech for everyday conversation , do n't you ? 
I 'm sure we could ! " 
Magda and Erich were staring at her dumbfounded , incapable of knowing whether to take her seriously or not . 
" For instance , " she went on mischievously , " when I arrive you 're bound to say , " How do you do ! " and I 'm bound to reply , " Very well , thank you . " 
Now we could shorten all that . 
You 'd say , " H.D.Y.D. " and I 'd reply , " V.W.T.Y. " Think what a lot of time we 'd save in the course of our lives ! 
We could shorten sentences such a lot — for instance , if I now say , " Is n't it a lovely evening ? " you know , before I 've finished , from my eyes and intonation , what I 'm going to say . 
So I 'd only need , really , to begin , " Is n't it ... ? " and you could imagine the rest . 
People talk far too much and say the same things over and over again . 
I do n't mean they 're boring — the lovely evening is n't — but we could take them for granted , could n't we ? 
We could have two languages — a cypher one , and then the proper language for our few , occasional original thoughts . 
They 'd stand out on their own like jewels , then . 
What do you think of my idea ? " 
"I think it 's very silly and impracticable , " said Magda . 
" What would we do without all those formal aids to talk ? " 
"Perhaps the tomato juice has gone to your head , Sonia ! " 
Erich laughed . 
" Would you like some more ? " 
"Maybe it has . " 
Lightening their tone was not easy , she thought to herself . 
She wondered what would do it . 
Then , suddenly , as she noticed the many flowers in the room , she remembered that she had not brought any herself but had something else as a gift for Magda . 
She bent over to pick up her handbag . 
" I did n't bring you flowers , Magda , because I know you always have so many — we all do . 
But I did find this little book I thought you might like . " 
Magda flushed . 
" It was not necessary — . " 
"Of course it was n't ! 
It 's the not-necessary things that are the nicest ! " 
"Open it , Magda , " said Erich . 
It was a small book about birds , with many illustrations showing their various types of nests , from the clumsy casual untidy heaps set together by storks on roof-tops to the exquisite feather-lined , moss-bedecked enclosure of warmth and security made by the wren . 
" Oh , there 's plenty of time , " the forester said , and yawned and stretched himself . 
" Why do you wear those wellingtons when it 's so hot ? " she asked . 
" I do n't know , I always wear them when I 'm out working . 
They 're useful , I suppose . " 
Then they were silent for a time . 
Mary shaded the sun from her eyes and looked out over the valley . 
Julian watched the sawing . 
The grass was very warm . 
There was not a breath of wind and the branches of the tree were quite motionless . 
He saw that the forester had closed his eyes and was breathing deeply . 
For a moment , as the sawing stopped for the next pair to take over , he heard curlews far above them on the hillside . 
He felt drowsy and lay back again . 
Some minutes later they shouted over for the forester to come and take his turn once more . 
" Hi , Johnnie ! 
Wake him up , will you ! " 
Julian sat up . 
The forester seemed to be fast asleep . 
Mary was smiling and obviously waiting to see what would happen . 
Julian realised that it was up to him to do the waking . 
He crawled over and shook the foot of one of the wellingtons , but to no effect . 
" Hit him ! " one of the men shouted . 
Julian tapped him on the arm , and then pulled at his wrist , but still there was no sign of life apart from the heavy breathing of his chest . 
A large stick , coming from the direction of the workmen , just missed Julian and embedded itself in the turf . 
He looked round angrily and then glanced at Mary who was watching him with an odd , rather anxious smile . 
Another stick flew over his head . 
He stood up , and then knelt down again and shook the forester by both shoulders , and then let go quickly as he opened his eyes and sat up . 
" They 're calling for you , " Julian said , moving back and sitting down again beside Mary . 
" Are they ? 
Well , well ! " 
He waved towards the tree and then stood up . 
" You stay here , you 'll be quite safe here , it wo n't be very long now . 
You watch and see exactly where it falls ! 
I 'll go and tell your friends to come up here with you . " 
He strode off down the slope . 
" He 's funny , " Mary said , rather doubtfully . 
" He can make the trees do just what he likes , but he 's no idea how he does it ! 
He 's almost like an animal . " 
"And he does n't care at all what happens to the trees , or why it 's happening ! " 
Julian said , feeling a need to criticise the forester . 
" You 'd think he 'd be more concerned about that sort of thing , considering he 's obviously such a good craftsman ! 
He just does what he 's told to do . 
But he seems to do it very well , of course . 
And do you remember how the driver said the woodcutters had gone , how it was more like a factory , the way the people worked in the forest now ? 
Well , he was wrong ! 
This man here must be as good a craftsman as any , to know all about the felling like that ! 
He must be one of the old kind ! 
I imagine he 's lived out here all his life . 
Do n't you think it would be wonderful to live like that ? 
You remember when I said I 'd come away from home to have a complete change , to break the chain ? 
And you asked me what it was I came away to find ? 
Well , this is the sort of thing I wanted to find ! 
Somewhere where I could live the sort of life this forester 's living . 
His way of life is really what I wanted to find . 
That sort of way of life . 
You know what I mean ? " 
He looked round at her . 
" I do n't really . 
No , " she said . 
" But you just could n't live that sort of life ! 
You 're not that sort of person , are you ? 
You might just as well try to change the colour of your hair . 
Why ever should you want that sort of life ? " 
Julian wished he had not said so much , he felt foolish . 
He had said it partly because he really did feel it , and partly because he thought it would make her think more highly of him . 
This second reason seemed quite absurd to him even before she had replied . 
" You do like that kind of person , though ? " he asked her . 
" How can I say ? " she said abruptly . 
" He 's a better sort than Hanson , more honest and straightforward . 
I do n't exactly find him irresistible though . " 
"I do n't think you quite see what I mean , " he replied , as Hanson and Elizabeth came up to them and sat down near them on the grass . 
" No , it seems I do n't , " she said , ignoring them . 
" So it 's coming down soon , " Hanson said . 
" What was he talking about ? " 
"Nothing much , " Julian replied . 
" Only that it 's going to fall just where you were . 
He 's got it all worked out , or judged rather , to the inch . 
We 're quite safe here . " 
"It 's lucky there 's no wind , " Elizabeth said . 
The blond forester was busy at one end of the saw again . 
It was difficult to see how much farther they had to go , but the other men were no longer resting . 
They were standing back and watching intently , some down at the cut , others up at the top of the tree . 
" Did you tell him we disapproved ? " 
Hanson asked . 
" I said I thought it was a pity , " Julian replied . 
" And what did he say to that ? " 
"He did n't seem to know anything about it , beyond how to fell it . 
Anyway , it 's too late now to do anything about it . " 
"And what do you think you could have done about it before ? " 
Mary asked him , quietly . 
" I do n't know . 
Tried to persuade them to leave it , I suppose . 
They might n't have known anyone cared about it . " 
"And why do you care about it ? " she asked , still completely ignoring the other two . 
" I suppose because it 's taken ages to grow as perfect and beautiful and tall as that , and because it only takes a few moments to destroy it . 
And because it 's impossible to create it again ! 
It 's a fine sight , I 'm sorry to see it go . " 
"It 'll be a fine sight to see it coming down though , wo n't it ? " 
"Maybe , " Julian said . 
" Do n't you think it 's rather fine to see a man who does n't even know why he 's wearing wellingtons bring down something as wonderful as that tree ? 
And for no reason at all , so far as he knows ! 
But he does it ! 
I rather like that . 
He 's really doing something big . 
Do you see what I mean , I wonder ? " 
"I do n't think I do , " Julian replied . 
" I think it 's very exciting though to watch someone like that doing physically strenuous work . 
I 'd much rather he was n't destroying something at the same time though ! " 
"I agree . 
It would be exciting , if it was n't so destructive , " Elizabeth put in . 
She seemed to have very strong unspoken feelings on the matter , judging from the way she was leaning on one arm and staring down and nervously crumbling the dry earth of a molehill beside her . 
" Destructive ! 
Destructive ! " 
Mary said sarcastically , turning to her for the first time . 
" What you 'd call destructive , maybe ! 
Oh how unimaginative you all are ! " 
"Mary , there 's no need to indulge in this deliberate spitefulness just because you 're angry with yourself , " she said without looking up . 
" Other people will only help you if you give them a fair chance . 
And why did you speak to me the way you did , down there ? 
I ca n't understand , how can I tell what you 're talking about ? 
What is it you 're blaming me for now ? " 
"Blaming you ? " 
Mary jumped up and stood bending towards her sister . 
" Do n't you really know ? 
Well , well ! 
You need n't try to pretend that I 'm the only person who keeps things secret ! " 
She stepped back and turned on Julian : " My own sister scheming to get me out in the country alone with a boy like you who 's run away from his mother and wants to become a blond-haired woodcutter ! 
Oh , you understand people so well ! 
You 're a fine man ! 
A real man ! 
You 've got real feeling ! " 
These last words she directed at Julian in such a withering tone that she seemed completely unable to say anything more . 
She turned and walked away from them , across and down the slope . 
Julian stared after her , dazed . 
He felt profoundly injured , and unjustly but absolutely rejected . 
But this feeling of weakness quickly merged into impotent anger . 
Mary had begun to run , but then she suddenly stopped and stood looking back at them . 
She was too far away for him to see any expression on her face . 
" Hi , Miss , " one of the foresters shouted to her , " you 'd better move a bit or you 'll get your pretty self squashed flat ! " 
She gave no sign that she had even heard him . 
They stopped sawing . 
She 's gone back to her old methods , Julian said to himself , she 's trying to bully me again , and I thought she 'd stopped that sort of thing ! 
She 's standing there expecting me to go and rescue her . 
She 's trying to force me to show some concern for her . 
She wants me to give in and run to drag her away . 
She wants me to commit myself . 
Because if I did go to rescue her she 'd consider it absolute proof that I was fond of her . 
But I 'm just not going to be forced like that ! 
Anyway , what a fool I 'd seem to all these onlookers ! 
They just think she 's playing ! 
And she may be playing with them , but with me she 's not ! 
And she 's not hysterical now either . 
She 's stone cold and determined . 
She thinks she 's got me on the end of a string . 
She thinks she 's got me helplessly in her power , but she 's wrong ! 
He looked round . 
Elizabeth had one hand on Hanson 's shoulder , they were both staring intently at Mary . 
All the men were standing watching her too , in exaggerated attitudes of impatience and annoyance . 
Mary was standing in the patch of thistles . 
" If only she would n't make such an exhibition of herself , " Hanson said , and Elizabeth tugged at his shoulder . 
Then the blond forester looked over at the three of them . 
Julian pretended not to notice , he knew he was expecting him to do something about it . 
He felt suddenly afraid that the forester was beginning to think it serious . 
He determined to remain completely aloof . 
Deliberately he looked away , down over the manor . 
He saw a dark circular mark spreading towards them across the meadow . 
It reached the manor and a pillar of dust swirled high into the air . 
Then the huge eddy swept up the slope , catching wisps of grass and catching Mary 's dress and snatching at her hair . 
Then the lowest branches of the great fir tree quivered and swayed , and the surging of the heavy masses of dark foliage spread upwards and shook the whole tree as for a moment it became the violent centre of the whirlwind . 
A shout sounded through the strange roaring of the wind and the blond forester ran forward . 
Then the tree , suddenly calm again , towered over . 
It hung a moment against the sky , and then crashed to the ground , lashing into the turf of the slope . 
It rocked and shuddered , and lay still . 
Julian , who had watched in such helpless , petrified amazement that he had been unable to move , ran forward with Elizabeth and Hanson . 
The men clambered over the branches . 
Julian tried to force his way through the foliage where he imagined Mary would be , but he became entangled in the broken branches and could not get very far . 
He felt his legs trembling . 
Then he climbed up on to a large branch . 
Hanson was a little way beyond him , crawling underneath . 
Elizabeth had run round to the other side of the tree . 
He climbed along the branch to the main trunk , his hands getting sticky with resin and his ankles getting scraped as he slipped on the bark . 
" I want to marry you , " he said . 
" We will live for ever in a little house by the sea . " 
"I want a big house , " I said . 
" I will give it you , " he cried . 
How can one answer such promises ? 
Innocencio 's words were dreams . 
" We will have some children with fair hair , " he went on . 
" It would be lovely if you had some children . " 
At the time I did not know what to say , but have often remembered Innocencio 's dialect version of the song ; " 
{ Palomita blanca reluciente estrella 
Mas chula y mas bella 
Qu'un blanco jasmin — " 
I asked Innocencio about the crater I had seen from the mainland , and the snowy peak I could even now see . 
" Yes , " he replied , " Right in the middle of the island is a huge volcano , a real volcano , quite as active as Vesuvius or Stromboli . 
It is called the Bed of Empedocles , and the name is true of this mountain , and of no other . 
We try to keep its activities hidden ; we do n't often admit even its existence to anyone from the mainland or even the other islands . 
When you see a glow in the night sky and ask us what it is , we tell you it 's a fire in the scrub . 
So it may be , and very likely the olive trees are burning too ; but what has started the conflagration ? 
We wo n't tell you anything about those seething underground cauldrons that threaten to break through at any moment , and occasionally do so ! " 
"What does the pharos say , out there at the end of the jetty ? " 
I asked . 
" It flashes a message all night through , long after every other lamp is out , but not a message of comfort . 
Keep away , it says , I am alight , but so is the mountain ! 
Keep away from these dangerous shores . 
And from above the inland ranges , I shall be turned into blood , cries the moon ; and the stars wide-eyed with terror sink back into their cavernous abyss . 
" Last eruption the mountain burst like a Bank and flung millions of pieces of money high into the air . 
They were scattered over a wide area of the surrounding hills , and were eagerly searched for and gathered up by people from the villages . 
Many a mattress and stocking now bulges with that extraordinary gold . 
Such was the explosive force that a few coins fell even as far away as England . 
" But one never knows what a volcano will do next , so it is best to say nothing about it . " 
Innocencio wandered away , his forehead clouded , as so often his native peak , by the dark legends of his race . 
In the afternoon I went out again , hoping to see him , but could not find the peaceful garden . 
I was not far from it , though , for there was sea below me , and I knew that the garden lay near that part of the estate which included a strip of coastline edged with precipitous cliffs . 
I was looking down on the beach ; was it a festival , that so many people were about ? 
It must be the day of the sea-sports ; my eyes search the holiday crowd for Innocencio . 
Shall I recognize him in this dazzling light ? 
There he is ! 
No , it is someone a little like him . 
I look in other directions and then suddenly I see him ; he is walking with one of his companions , and talking of the contest to come . 
He is ready for it , wearing his bathing-slip and bonnet . 
He does not see me . 
I am on the cliff-tops of my Uncle 's domain ; it is getting towards evening , the wind has risen but there are no clouds , huge waves are crashing on the rocks below . 
Spectators are gathered on the opposite cliff , cut off from me by a chasm , and waiting for the chief event of the sports . 
Here are townspeople and their visitors , with a few rustics from the mountains inland . 
All at once a commotion stirs them : Innocencio comes in sight round the headland , pulling a boat with all his strength against the heavy sea . 
Will he ever reach the bay ? 
Time after time a powerful undertow sweeps him outward . 
Then putting forth a supreme effort he rides inshore on the back of a ninth wave and is flung beyond the drag of the out-rushing water . 
He can not be seen for spray , but a scream of triumph goes up from the watchers . 
" It has never been done before ! " someone shouts in excitement , " No one else has finished the course . 
He has pulled all the way from Galva — how many miles ? — and in the teeth of a north-east gale ! " 
"Innocencio ! 
Innocencio ! " 
The cries of the people soar higher than the stormy tumult ; he has put them above Galva of the Grasshoppers , their rival port ; Innocencio is their hero for ever , and even the people of Galva will praise him . 
I look down into his boat , rocking now in a sheltered inlet ; he has brought from Galva where his sister lives a trophy without price . 
In the distance and through tears it looks like two little brown dolls , one bigger than the other and lighter in colour ; then I see that they are shoes from the feet of his sister 's children , his elder sister whose name is future and present and past . 
Are they made from walnut-shells and the skin of mouse and mole ? 
They prove that his boat has been to Galva ; they will always be his greatest treasure . 
I look now into the heart of Innocencio ; below the proud surf lie images of the perpetual terror of earth and sea ; first the twelve men he saw frozen stiff in the stranded lifeboat ; then more recently the brothers from Lumio drowned in each other 's clasp , the one trying to save the other — dragged from translucent depths , so fast were they locked that no one could separate their last embrace and they were buried in the same grave ; and finally the corpse he had seen half-eaten by worms at the cemetery . 
His ribs still echo with the horror of their tawny hue . 
I open my veins to the east I open the veins of my arm with the cut of a sliver of silicon . 
Blood pours out from the left flows out till it reaches the sea goes on flowing pours inexhaustible through the inexhaustible sea without chafe or pause till it surrounds the island a line veining marble a red line in the green sea taut from my arm making a long arm to his home circling the island a ribbon of stain in the foam unmixing like a rusty chain to bind him in binding his home so he never can go nor a boat 's prow cut through a crown renewed without end of mercurial metal from far-away gap whence it flows only his tooth could mend the gap whence it flows only his tongue lick up the stream at its source only his tooth and his tongue . 
Cibation 
" In the wood of wonder her fountain sings . " 
The Magical Aphorisms of Eugenius Philalethes . 
Next day I persuaded the Anchorite to come walking with me in the same neighbourhood . 
The coast-scenery was so fine that presently we stopped to look at it , gazing across a bay to the far side where a line of jagged cliffs rose against the horizon . 
" A year or two ago , " said the Anchorite , " a girl and I were walking along this road . 
There was a spring-tide , gone down very low , as it has to-day ; and as we looked across at that rocky shoal in the distance , we saw the towers and spires of a Gothic cathedral rising above it . 
The tide had gone out so far that this cathedral , normally submerged , was plainly visible . " 
While the Anchorite was speaking I looked out over the expanse of the bay , and could almost behold the faintly-discernible architecture that he described . 
Outlined against the sky , it appeared distinctly to the mind 's eye at least ; and I could imagine that it had taken but little carving of the rocks from which it grew , to turn nature into art . 
The Anchorite did not tell me who the girl was . 
" Just where we are , " he went on , " the coast is so formed that the water ca n't ebb as far as it does from the opposite side of the bay . 
It 's about dead-low now , and as you can see , there are only two or three hundred yards of sand between the road and the water . 
Well , as I was telling you , we were staring at the cathedral , which is hardly ever uncovered , when a lady stepped out of the sea quite near us . 
She appeared just where the sand dividing us from the water was narrowest , that is , about opposite where we are now . 
She was tall and fair and dressed in a robe of yellow silk , the colour between orange and lemon . 
She came towards us , and we walked over the wet sand to meet her . " 
My eyes had come back from across the bay and were now concentrated upon the waveless touch of the nearer sea and shore . 
I could all but see the yellow-clad figure standing at the water 's edge ; and it seemed to me that there must have been other of her people — sea-men and sea-women , with her or not far behind , though the Anchorite said nothing about them . 
" She spoke to us , " he continued ( and I could almost hear the sea-woman 's voice ) , " telling us her name was Vellanserga , and inviting us to go with her into the cathedral . 
I refused ; but the girl went , and was never heard of again . " 
I knew that if the same invitation had been offered to me , I too would have accepted ; and it showed how completely the Anchorite 's movements were in subjection to my Uncle 's service , that he had not done so . 
Seeing that I was engrossed in meditation on his tale , the Anchorite withdrew . 
Storm is in the air , but distant . 
Does it echo , or threaten ? 
Is the air weighted by the melancholy of a tempest subsiding , or the anxious hush that precedes its first assault ? 
On the sea floats a head in profile , of heroic traits , a collar of violets encircling the severed neck . 
The flaxen hair , once looped-up , is now spread upon a watery surface , and tilted by recurring small waves . 
Some distant storm , surely , tore this head from a ship 's prow ; and the wood still bleeds , oozing a purple growth . 
The salty taste of blood , I mused , comes from the sea , which being without colour , reflects a tint from the air above while turning its red globes into sea-anemones ; but blood has kept these as a dye . 
Here is the end of the land and the beginning of a country under the sea ; an impalpable region stretches over the last of the earth and extends a long way under water . 
It is said that our starvation is their plenty ; that in time of war here , down there reigns the deepest peace . 
In a douce air above stones and soil , one is not alone ; mist is blown out towards a silvered horizon , nothing perishes . 
Sometimes there is a thickening , and a growing menace . 
Round coastal rocks flows a true water , the authentic Atlantide . 
It is not the peacock that divides two continents , shrill-voiced but never terrible ; nor that narrow and more deceptive iris strait ; nor yet the electric blue sweeping from Teneriffe to Tory , though a swish from the tail of the same dragon . 
Under granite the saints lie buried ; here a monument measured to human form still stands , there a tree takes shape from the bones beneath , an honourable vessel . 
In yet earlier rock there pulses an ancient sensual life , but the saints must be roused up first . 
Their diadems are bright with Sunday flowers , already they lift head and shoulders from their covering slabs . 
When they come alive and walk their own realm , the kingdom of vegetation , then blood of beasts must warm the older stones and power will wake from a deeper cave . 
3 
Hardly noticed by Vicky in her grief and her expectant motherhood , the political scene in Prussia had greatly changed . 
It was only after the birth of her second son in August , that she resumed her old interests . 
Fritz had shielded her from worry in the last weeks of her pregnancy , but now with her second son thriving , delighted with this strong and perfect child , Vicky 's vitality renewed itself . 
Fritz , she observed , looked harrassed . 
He seemed unwilling to talk about current events , but her direct questions broke through his reserve . 
It appeared that Roon , the only conservative in the otherwise liberal Ministry , had in accordance with the King 's demand , drawn up plans for an army reform , which the King approved , but the Diet did not ; whereupon the King dissolved the Diet , only to have the newly elected one also vote against the reform . 
Furious , by this time , the King dissolved the second Diet ; and the third , although the majority of its members were still in opposition to the King , suggested a reasonable compromise . 
In this crisis , Fritz who was at his wit 's end , advised acceptance , and the King then turned upon him , and declared that sooner than step down from the stand he had taken , he would abdicate . 
The abdication document was already drawn up , though not yet signed . 
Vicky listened aghast . 
They had never , she realised been more in need of the Prince Consort 's advice . 
" The opinion in the country , " Fritz said bitterly , " is that I am urging my father to abdicate , in order that I may step into his shoes . " 
"What nonsense , oh , what nonsense ! " 
Vicky cried . 
" It seems anything but nonsense to our enemies , my dearest . " 
"But who could want to reign under such conditions ? 
How could you make a success of kingship knowing your father was bitterly resentful and hurt ? " 
"Not all sons love their fathers , Vicky . " 
"But you do , do n't you ? " 
"Yes ; though not as you loved yours . 
I doubt though , if our opponents credit me with filial affection . " 
"What will you do ? " 
"Refuse the crown if it is offered to me . 
Apart altogether from my father 's feelings , if I accepted it , it might well start a civil war . 
If the worst comes to the worst , and the abdication paper is signed , I shall stand down in favour of Willy . " 
"Which , " Vicky said , "would mean a Regency for many years , and heaven only knows who would be appointed Regent . 
There must be some alternative . " 
"The present Diet is trying to find a solution , " Fritz told her . 
" I have said that I will offer no further suggestions , for any advice of mine is suspect . 
Roon has sent for his friend , Otto von Bismarck , hoping that he may find some way to end the deadlock . " 
"Bismarck ? 
Oh yes , of course , the Paris ambassador . " 
Vicky knitted her brows , " Bertie of all people was talking about him , some time ago . 
He said he had heard that this man was the hope of the conservatives ; that he was excessively able and ambitious . 
Bertie , I gathered , thought he might be a very sharp thorn to us . " 
"Odd to think of Bertie being so well-informed , " Fritz commented . 
Feeling rather proud of her brother , Vicky agreed . 
Bertie was much more intelligent than most people supposed . 
Poor , darling Papa had under-rated him , which was natural , as they were so very different from one another . 
Presently , she said : 
" If it were not that we should be throwing poor little Willy to the wolves , and depriving him of his father and mother — for you may be sure that we should have no say in his upbringing — I should be glad to go into exile . 
England would not be that for me , of course . 
It is you ... would it be grievously hard on you ? " 
"I can imagine worse fates , and unless my father is pacified , that is what it will come to . 
Willy would not be the first boy king in history , and by the time he was old enough to rule , conditions might have altered for the better . 
My darling , rather than risk a civil war , we should have to give him up . " 
"Prussia might become a republic , " Vicky hazarded . 
" The other States might be co-operative . " 
"That I can not believe . 
As a whole , Germans are imperial minded . 
No , they would insist on a king , if only a puppet king . " 
"Is there nothing we can do , Fritz ? " 
"Nothing but wait . 
I have no influence over my father , and my poor mother is in despair . 
Bismarck is expected to arrive in Berlin tomorrow , and my father has agreed to receive him . " 
Vicky was silent , unable , though it shamed her , to resist weaving a roseate dream . 
What joy it would be to return to England with Fritz , and to forget these few bitter years as though they had never been . 
Even if they had to leave poor little Willy in the hands of those in authority here , they would have their two younger children , and when everything had settled down , it might not be an absolute parting from their firstborn . 
Victoria would use all her considerable influence to prevent that . 
It was a dream soon to be dispelled . 
The next day the King tore up the abdication document . 
Bismarck promised him that given authority , he would get through the army reform , whatever the disposition of the Diet ; whereupon the King conferred upon him the title and position of Minister President and Foreign Minister of Prussia . 
Hearing this , Fritz and Vicky scarcely knew whether to be relieved or otherwise . 
At least the immediate crisis had been bypassed , and the King , worn out with the struggle was content to leave the affairs of state in the hands of his new adviser . 
Queen Augusta , who had hitherto seen little of Bismarck , but who within twenty-four hours disliked him intensely , wept disconsolate tears . 
Her influence over the King had never been great , but now it was reduced to nil . 
The new President Minister bluntly announced that he would not tolerate petticoat government , and in this he included the young Crown Princess as much as the Queen . 
He would serve the King , Bismarck said , but him alone , and he had no doubt but that he could serve him to his satisfaction . 
He swore that if the King relied on him , he would finally be not only King of Prussia but Emperor of a United Germany . 
Soon it was realised that the new Minister had an enormous following and with the King 's backing , his authority was paramount . 
Within weeks , a new Diet , composed of those who slavishly believed in him , was completely under his sway . 
Fritz was treated as a weakling enemy . 
Vicky as his evil genius . 
Unpopular before Bismarck came into power , she was now hated . 
This hatred took the form of ignoring her whenever it was possible , and had she not been the Princess Royal of Great Britain , and her mother a powerful queen , she and Fritz might , she thought , well have been banished from the country . 
Vicky often wondered that she did not meet with an untimely end . 
There were more ways than one of getting rid of an intransigent princess . 
But it was not Bismarck 's policy to so inflame Britain that he had a war on his hands . 
It was far wiser to treat Vicky as an ignorant , hot-headed girl , and while appearing to tolerate Fritz , to estrange the King from him by various subtle means . 
Finally , however , Fritz was forced into open conflict with his father . 
Bismarck , though the Diet was now subservient to him , was constantly criticised by the more liberal newspapers , and he retaliated by passing an emergency decree , which effectually muzzled the Press . 
Now , no political opinion could be newspaper circulated without the approval of the Minister President ; free speech was annihilated . 
On the other hand , any article in praise of him and his government was given extravagant publicity . 
Scurrilous attacks were made on Vicky . 
Nothing was too bad , or too personally insulting to be written about her . 
There were now no objections raised to her visiting England as often as she chose ; the hope was openly expressed that she would never return to Prussia . 
Fritz , whose opinions and principles were outraged , and who was furiously indignant on Vicky 's behalf , came out into the open , and when at an official reception at Dantzig he was asked outright by the burgomaster if he had had any hand in bringing about the Press Ordinance , he replied that he had not . 
He had , he said , been absent from Berlin at the time , and had had no part in the councils which had led up to it . 
His short speech which followed , showed clearly where his sympathies lay . 
The burgomaster 's question had come as no surprise to him ; he had been warned before the reception that he would be challenged , and Vicky , who was with him , had implored him to make his position plain . 
They had their own following , she argued , though it might be a minority following , and Fritz owed it to them to show that he was not involved in this disgraceful measure . 
Within hours the storm broke about their heads . 
The King threatened to cast Fritz off altogether . 
The Queen Augusta wrote him an hysterical letter , in which she confusedly sympathised with him , reproached him , and laid all the blame on Vicky who was proving herself no friend to her adopted country . 
" I am not , I suppose , " Vicky said sadly . 
" Not to this new Prussia , which is changed and demoralised . 
You would be better without me . 
Even some of your real , true friends doubt me ; they think you have wedded not only me , but my country ; and they would rather put up with this devilish Bismarck than run the danger — they think it is a danger — of being Anglicised . 
I do n't blame them in the least . 
I know how repellent it is to me to be Prussianised . 
I should never have loved you , or wanted to marry you , had that been your attitude . " 
"Thank God , it never was , " Fritz said . 
" All I hoped was that you would bring the fresh air of your country , to blow upon the cobwebs in mine . " 
"I have n't sufficient breath for that , " and Vicky smiled wryly . 
" Oh darling — I feel so hopeless . 
Sometimes I am afraid they will contrive to separate us , dearly though we love one another . " 
To think that , was to believe in the reality of a nightmare dream , Fritz chided her , and added : 
" But I only wish you could get away from her — you and the children as well — until the worst storm blows over . " 
"We both ought to get away Fritz — not permanently , but for a respite . 
I , in that way , am strangely free for the first time since I came to live here , and with the King so opposed to you and your views , you can scarcely be more than a figure-head in Prussia . 
Moreover , the hateful Bismarck will see that you are not . " 
"So it seems , " agreed Fritz with a shrug . 
" Why not give the King and the country time to tire of him ? " 
Vicky urged . 
" What good can you do , as things are ? 
Mamma , poor darling , has sufficiently roused herself from her grief to be concerned for us . 
She has a proposition in mind , though it greatly depends upon what she thinks of Alix when she at last meets her . 
If possible she will bring about that marriage , because Papa so much wished it , though Bertie seems more or less indifferent . 
Poor boy , he has been too miserable to think about his future . " 
The Queen , Fritz opined , was certain to approve of the Princess Alexandra , whose inherent gentleness would be an enormous asset to her . 
" Well , we shall see , " Vicky said . 
" The meeting at Laeken has been arranged , and then Mamma has asked if we could take charge of Bertie for a while . " 
"Take charge of him ? 
In Berlin ? 
He would scarcely enjoy himself here just now . " 
"Mamma knows that . 
I am sure she would not advocate it . " 
She glanced once more at the Colonel . 
He showed no signs of being interested in what was going on before his eyes , and the shoe remained , untouched , at his feet . 
It occurred to her briefly ( two more prisoners were examined ) how odd it was that of all the people in the convoy who had been held up by this " Colonel " and his assistant , she and Benvenuto were the only ones who knew that they could not be what they seemed . 
And did Benvenuto know ? 
It also seemed to her that the soldier was taking a long time reaching Benvenuto , but she did not trust her senses . 
It must be no time at all , she said . 
Then she heard the soldier shout : " Fall out ! 
Get back in the trucks ! " and the Colonel add , in their language , " And do n't waste any time about it ! " and though it seemed impossible to her that she should have escaped , she could not think of any other possible explanation for the command . 
As they started shuffling back towards the truck she tried to keep walking evenly , in spite of the fact that one foot was now higher than the other . 
No one moved very fast . 
She saw Benvenuto get into the truck among the first without looking either right or left ; she saw the soldier help one of the wounded up over the tail-gate ; she saw the Colonel start to hurry the line along , pushing each man along by the shoulders ; and when she was a few prisoners away from boarding the truck herself , she saw the Colonel step on her shoe . 
At first it seemed that he would not even notice his discomfort in his impatience to get on to the next truck . 
But obviously the heel of the shoe annoyed him and he got the soldier to point his flashlight down at the offending object . 
The soldier picked it up and held it in his hand , but the Colonel took it from him and methodically wiped the mud from it so that its red leather shone . 
Clara meanwhile had passed him and was in the truck , manoeuvring to be as close to Benvenuto as possible . 
When she turned round she could see the shoe in the Colonel 's hand . 
It looked very small and the Colonel 's hand looked very large . 
" What a pretty shoe , " Lescaut said . 
" What a very pretty shoe . " 
THREE Liberation 1 
UNTIL the very moment when she was captured Clara had believed in her heart of hearts that she and Benvenuto would escape . 
She did not know how , but she was convinced that it would be so . 
In those few hours from noon to midnight of that August day that had been so filled with the Unusual , she had never ceased to believe in the Usual , in the day-to-day life she had enjoyed for many years . 
Today she was with Benvenuto ; tomorrow she would be with Benvenuto . 
Had it not always been so ? 
Would it not always be so ? 
The more you love , the more you think it likely that the world must love too . 
It takes stubborn facts to dislodge belief or habit . 
Until the moment , then , that Manon Lescaut picked up the shoe , Clara was convinced against all appearances that she and Benvenuto must be saved : because they loved each other , if for no other reason . 
Another thing she had taken for granted was that Benvenuto also had faith in their escape , for if he had n't why had he undertaken to fly with her ? 
In fact , Clara had believed that it was she who tended to be more realistic in appraising their chances , and Benvenuto who had been swayed by the o'erweaning optimism of his nature . 
But when their capture was certain , she saw that Benvenuto had never believed that they would escape . 
He made this perfectly plain by his reactions . 
Far from being more frightened than before , his capture plainly relieved his mind of whatever doubts he may have had . 
He followed and obeyed Manon Lescaut as though he was absolutely certain that the Rumanian knew what he was doing , why he was doing it ; and even as though he thought that the Rumanian probably knew better than he , Benvenuto , did , what was good and suitable for him . 
Clara was used to following his lead , and within minutes she , too , began to feel a certain relief that she had been captured . 
The moment she realized that she and Benvenuto would not escape , she saw that everything that had happened in the past twelve hours had happened just as it had been ordained ; and in the same way everything that would happen to them now would happen as it was ordained . 
And if this was so , there was no need to plan anything or to feel any fear . 
Several times , during the hour that followed their capture , when they were being driven through the back roads in the mountains in a jeep the Rumanian had commandeered , she looked to Benvenuto to see if he thought the same way ; and whenever she looked , she saw her own feelings confirmed . 
Benvenuto 's face was deprived of all expression . 
It had done away both with its past and with its future ; it neither regretted nor expected . 
From time to time his large and strong hand passed under her blanket to meet hers and lie there on her lap ; and even in this he showed neither pleasure nor pain . 
His hand merely indicated that he was there next to her and that they were together . 
She derived a great strength from this and she and Benvenuto were able to sustain everything the Rumanian said and did in silence . 
The Rumanian was not cruel , except with his words , and his words all seemed to deal with someone called the Capita2n and with times that had gone by and had no particular relevance at the moment . 
Indeed , she could not imagine why he bothered to mention half the things he mentioned : did he think Benvenuto had forgotten them ? or would deny them ? 
But now that all those things were done , now that they were over with , what could recalling them serve ? 
They were taken to a cafe2 in the mountains and told to sit down on two chairs by the wall , on either side of one of those football games which are so common , where all the players are on handles and you make goals by twisting the handles and making the players kick a ping-pong ball into the goal . 
Benvenuto sat down on the side of the red team and she sat down on the side of the white . 
The Rumanian introduced her to a man called " Major Vincent " and then introduced Benvenuto . 
They did not get up from their chairs , nor did the Major , whom she saw as a small , fat , pink man , seek to shake their hands . 
She presumed that they were going to be handed over into his charge , and she was surprised to find that she did not care . 
Then a glance at Benvenuto told her that he too did not care . 
It was unimportant in whose hands they were ; all would happen as it had been ordained . 
2 
IT WAS possible for Major Vincent to misjudge the emotions of Benvenuto and Clara as he did because from his point of view , knowing what he knew of their fates , there was very little in their present appearance to indicate anything else but the most abject fear and humiliation . 
As he studied them in the fullness of his self-satisfaction , nothing suggested that the pale , weary , shrunken , wizened old man in his tattered rags was the same proud Capita2n who had guided the destiny of his country for twenty years . 
In Bassanio 's patched and threadbare uniform Benvenuto looked like an ordinary fugitive from justice caught in an absolutely futile disguise . 
Gone was the habitual arrogance of his expression , gone the proud thrust of his jaw , the many gestures of the hands ; extinct the brilliance and fire of his eyes . 
Nor was it possible to see in her an Emperor 's mistress , a pampered Pompadour , as the Major had always imagined her . 
She looked — the expression caused the Major a smile — like a wife , a sort of faithful adjunct , a mute copy of her master . 
She sat in a slouch with one fine shoe on one delicate foot , in a dress spattered and stiff with mud : to the Major her cropped hair and thin breasts , her pale and drawn face and her sleepless-strained eyes brought to mind nothing more than submissiveness and servility . 
When the Rumanian brought them in , Major Vincent decided that they were both in the last stages of fear and exhaustion and that he would have no trouble with them . 
Benvenuto and Clara were not the first prisoners he had taken , nor would they be the first he would execute . 
Most of his other prisoners had behaved in a certain way , and he was confident Benvenuto and Clara would behave in the same way . 
What he read as fear in their faces he ascribed to the overwhelming depression of being taken when they thought they would be free . 
He thought of Benvenuto as being in the same position as that prisoner of the Spanish Cardinal during the Inquisition . 
One night the Cardinal left the prisoner 's door unlocked and through endless dangers and mounting fear the prisoner made his way to the very outer wall of the citadel — only to find the Cardinal waiting for him there when he had scaled that wall . 
To be a few steps short of achieving one 's aims , Major Vincent thought , was as terrible a fate as could befall a man . 
Like that Cardinal , the Major had his methods with prisoners , and he believed them to be the most modern and most efficient methods , and relatively without cruelty . 
What he wanted from the Capita2n before he killed him was to see him broken down into absolute zero ; he wanted him to deny ever having been a human being ; he wanted him to unthink every thought he had ever had . 
If he could succeed in this , he would have accomplished two desirable aims . 
First , his own thoughts would rule supreme and he would feel , as he had felt before , that state of semi-exaltation in which his own ideas seemed to supersede all others and have free play with the realities of the world . 
In that state there were no cars that did not function , no stomachs with special requirements and no imperfections of communication . 
Second , it would be much easier to kill his prisoner once he had been reduced to absolute zero . 
Somehow , he had found , the more afraid a man was , the easier it was to kill him . 
The Major had his methods for achieving these aims : they had always succeeded in the past . 
" The mind is a simple thing , " he thought . 
" It is made to feel and understand one thing at a time , so that you can make it swing like a pendulum . 
You can make doubt play with hope , speculation with logic . 
Ultimately the only relief is in not caring at all . 
The mind will take death with ease then , for life is a burden and a torment and death is a liberation . " 
What the Major did not understand was that Benvenuto and Clara had reached this point without him . 
It was the Major 's odd vanity to think that he could impose this on two human beings . 
In reality , they were making it necessary for him to follow that path . 
But Major Vincent also had his moments of doubt . 
It was impossible , for instance , to calculate what effect the girl would have on his plans . 
What ought he to do with her ? 
Would n't it be considered unnecessarily cruel to kill the girl as well ? 
And how could he reduce her to zero when obviously all her concerns were with the Capita2n and she barely thought of herself at all ? 
For the moment he sidestepped the thought . 
I will decide what to do with her later , he imagined , not thinking that Clara would have anything to say in his decision . 
Yet even this did not yet trouble me very much . 
The thought that , whatever my reception , I would see Honor again was , in the frenzy of need and desire which had now come upon me , enough . 
I was perhaps moreover a little the dupe of that illusion of lovers that the beloved object must , somehow , respond , that an extremity of love not only merits but compels some return . 
I expected nothing very much , I certainly expected nothing precise , but the future was sufficiently open , sufficiently obscure , to receive the now so fierce onward rush of my purpose . 
I had to see her and that was all . 
What had more occupied my mind , as the train drew near to Cambridge , was wonderment at the nature and genesis of this love . 
When had I begun , unbeknown to myself , to love Honor Klein ? 
Was it when I threw her to the cellar floor ? 
Or when I saw her cut the napkins in two with the Samurai sword ? 
Or at some earlier time , perhaps at that strange moment when I had seen her dusty , booted and spurred , confront the golden potentates who were my oppressors ? 
Or even , most prophetically , when I had glimpsed the curving seam of her stocking in the flaring orange lights at Hyde Park Corner ? 
It was hard to say , and the harder because of the peculiar nature of this love . 
When I thought how peculiar it was it struck me as marvellous that I had nevertheless such a deep certainty that it was love . 
I seemed to have passed from dislike to love without experiencing any intermediate stage . 
There had been no moment when I reassessed her character , noticed new qualities , or passed less harsh judgements on the old ones : which seemed to imply that I now loved her for the same things for which I had previously disliked her heartily ; if indeed I had ever disliked her . 
None of this , on the other hand , made me doubt that now I loved her . 
Yet it was in truth a monstrous love such as I had never experienced before , a love out of such depths of self as monsters live in . 
A love devoid of tenderness and humour , a love practically devoid of personality . 
It was strange too how little this passion which involved , so it seemed , a subjection of my whole being had to do in any simple or comprehensible sense with the flesh . 
It had to do with it , as my blood at every moment told me , but so darkly . 
I preserved the illusion of never having touched her . 
I had knocked her down but I had never held her hand ; and at the idea of holding her hand I practically felt faint . 
How very different was this from my old love for Antonia , so warm and radiant with golden human dignity , and from my love for Georgie , so tender and sensuous and gay . 
Yet , too , how flimsy these other attachments seemed by comparison . 
The power that held me now was like nothing I had ever known : and the image returned to me of the terrible figure of Love as pictured by Dante . 
{ El m'ha percosso in terra e stammi sopra . 
It occurred to me later as remarkable and somehow splendid that one thing which I never envisaged in these early moments was that my condition was in any way bogus or unreal . 
Wherever it might lead , it was sufficiently what it seemed and had utterly to do with me : I would not , I could not , attempt to disown it or explain it away . 
If it was grotesque it was a grotesqueness which was of my own substance and to which , beyond any area of possible explanation , I laid an absolute claim . 
I had no idea what I would do when I saw Honor . 
It seemed quite likely that I would simply collapse speechless at her feet . 
Nothing of this mattered . 
I was doing what I had to do and my actions were , with a richness , my own . 
I glided , motley and all , into the great checkered picture of King 's Parade . 
Beyond the slim street lamps the great crested form of King 's chapel rose towards the moon , its pinnacles touched to a pallid blue against the starry distance beyond . 
The moon-shadow of the Senate House lay with a thicker obscurity across the grass until dispelled by the lamplight . 
The majesty , the familiarity , of these buildings seemed to add solemnity to my rite , as when old patriarchs come to grace a marriage . 
I felt by now extremely sick again and practically suffocated with excitement and with something which I supposed must be desire . 
I turned into the street where Honor Klein lived . 
I checked the numbers and could see ahead the house which must be hers . 
There was a single light on upstairs . 
The sight of that light made my heart increase its pace so hideously that I had to slow down and then to stop and hold on to a lamp-post while I tried to breathe evenly and quietly . 
I wondered if I had better wait a while and attempt , not to calm myself which was impossible , but simply to organize my breathing so as to be sure not to swoon . 
I stood for a few minutes and breathed steadily . 
I decided that I must wait no longer in case Honor should take it into her head to go to bed . 
I knew she could hardly be in bed at this hour , and pictured the upstairs room as a study . 
Then I pictured her there sitting at a desk surrounded by books . 
Then I pictured myself beside her . 
I advanced to the door and leaned against the wall . 
There was a single bell . 
I had not until that moment envisaged the possibility that she might have lodgers . 
In any case there was only one bell and I pressed it . 
I heard no sound within and after a moment I pressed the bell again . 
Still no sound . 
I stepped back and looked up at the lit curtained window . 
I returned to the door and pushed it gently , but it was locked . 
I peered through the letter box . 
The hall was in darkness and there was no sound of approaching feet . 
I held the letter box open and pressed the bell again . 
I decided that the bell must be out of order and I wondered what to do next . 
I might either call out , or bang on the door , or throw stones at the window . 
I stood meditating on these various courses for a little while , and they all seemed insuperably difficult . 
I was uncertain whether I could control my voice sufficiently to produce the right sort of cry , and the other methods were too brusque . 
In any case I did not relish a head thrust from a window , a confused encounter at a street doorway . 
What I really wanted was to slink quietly into some room and find myself at once in Honor 's presence . 
It then occurred to me that just this was precisely what I might be able to manage . 
I noticed a little gate at the side of the house which doubtless led into the garden . 
I tried it and it was open . 
I passed down a narrow passageway of mossy bricks which divided the houses and found myself in a small garden . 
I stepped back a little . 
Above the black shape of a drooping tree the high moon revealed the back of the house , which was in darkness . 
French windows of a lower room gave on to the garden . 
I tiptoed back across the grass and put my hand against the windows . 
Here I had to pause again to subdue a wave of sheer panic . 
My breathing , even my heart-beat , must I felt already be audible through the house like the panting of an engine . 
I tried the doors , got my finger into a crack and pushed them sharply away from me . 
They gave ; I was not sure whether they were unlatched anyway or whether my violent push had broken some weak fastening . 
I opened them wide with both hands . 
A dark room gaped before me , very faintly illuminated by the remains of an open fire . 
By now I scarcely knew what I was doing . 
My movements took on the quality of a dream . 
Things melted before me . 
I crossed the room and opened a door whose white surface I saw glimmering in the darkness . 
I came out into the hall . 
A little light from the street lamp in front , coming through the open door of one of the front rooms , showed me the stairs . 
I began to mount the stairs , leaning hard on the banisters and stepping softly . 
Once on the upper landing I could see the line of light under the door of Honor 's room . 
I hesitated only a moment . 
I advanced to the door and knocked . 
After so much breathless silence the sound of the knock seemed thunderous . 
I let it die away and then as there was no reply to it I opened the door . 
For a moment the light dazzled me . 
I saw opposite to me a large double divan bed . 
The room was brightly lit . 
Sitting up in this bed and staring straight at me was Honor . 
She was sitting sideways with the sheet over her legs . 
Upwards she was as tawny and as naked as a ship 's figurehead . 
I took in her pointed breasts , her black shaggy head of hair , her face stiff and expressionless as carved wood . 
She was not alone . 
Beside the bed a naked man was hastily engaged in pulling on a dressing-gown . 
It was immediately and indubitably apparent that I had interrupted a scene of lovers . 
The man was Palmer . 
I closed the door and walked back down the stairs . 
Twenty 
I TURNED a light on in the hall , finding the switch instinctively , and went back into the room through which I had come . 
I turned the switch here and various lamps came on . 
I vaguely took in a white book-lined room with chintz armchairs . 
I went over and closed the french windows which were hanging ajar . 
It appeared that I had broken the fastening after all . 
I pulled the curtains which were also chintz . 
I turned back towards the fireplace . 
On a low table before it stood a tray with two glasses , a decanter of whisky , and a jug of water . 
I poured out some whisky , spilling a good deal of it on the table . 
I drank it . 
I poured out some more , poked up the fire a bit , and waited . 
Ever since the moment near Waterloo Bridge when I had come to consciousness of my condition , I had felt like a man running towards a curtain . 
Now that I had so suddenly and with such exceedingly unexpected results passed through it I felt dazed and in great pain but also curiously steady . 
I had entered the house like a thief . 
I stood in it now like a conquering general . 
They would come , they would have to come , to attend upon me . 
I felt this steadiness , this setting as it were of my feet sturdily apart ; yet with it I was in a confusion amounting to agony . 
I had so rapaciously desired and so obtusely expected to find Honor alone . 
The simple fact of her not being alone was a wrench almost separately felt , even apart from the nightmarish significance of who her companion was . 
From this there shivered through me a violence of amazement not distinguishable from horror ; and I felt as a physical pain the shock of what I had done to them . 
How nai " vely had I imagined that Honor must be free ; I had even , it now occurred to me , imagined that she must be a virgin : that I would be the first person to discover her , that I would be her conqueror and her awakener . 
Caught in the coils of such stupidity I could not yet even begin to touch with my imagination the notion that she should have had her brother as a lover . 
There is not much you can do with a mahogany wardrobe except put your clothes in it . 
Save perhaps to the simple-minded , a dressing-table and a gas-fire do not open up endless vistas of amusement . 
I saw at a glance that the only possibility of diversion lay in the bed itself , which stood in the middle of the room , hostile and unruffled , as though convinced I would never have the courage to use it . 
But then a thought struck me : the very fact that the room was so uncompromisingly adjusted to lying down might make this easier to do when the right moment came . 
But when was it coming ? 
How would one recognise it ? 
By dismissing the porter with a florin , I brought that moment a step nearer . 
For the time being , however , it seemed essential to distract Priscilla 's attention from such matters , though I ca n't think why . 
I knew that she was not averse in principle to the loss of that closely-guarded ladylike secret which has inspired respect in so many poets , especially those of the old-fashioned type . 
I speak of her virginity . 
Though not a poet , I had respected it myself . 
But that does not mean that we were n't both quite anxious to have it out of the way . 
It had been playing the part of a fifth parent for far too long , getting between us whenever we began to slip from sofa to hearthrug , raising a finger if we reached the feverish point of asking a favour from it . 
The time had arrived to get rid of it . 
Just as our parents had faded into slightly ridiculous memories gesturing in the background , so too must virginity give way before the pressures of a legal marriage . 
But Priscilla , who can be very matter-of-fact at times , was plainly waiting for me to propose some suitable way of spending the evening . 
Why should an item like marriage affect one 's orderly mode of existence ? 
And she was right . 
A prompt seduction on my part would land us with the necessity to rise , bathe and dress , chat falsely about this and that , and emerge into the rest of the evening as though nothing had happened . 
As it was , we had a ready-made climax to look forward to , and it was merely a question of shaping the hours ahead with tact and artistry . 
So I suggested we dine . 
But Priscilla was n't hungry . 
She had eaten too much of the smoked salmon at the reception . 
I proposed we visit a few of the places we had known together , have a few drinks , perhaps dance . 
Dancing , she claimed , would exhaust her utterly . 
Did I want that ? 
No , I did n't . 
And as for the drinks , she had no wish to be left tossing restlessly , while I snored my way into a hangover . 
Did I snore by the way ? 
No , I did n't . 
But I realised my invention was beginning to slacken . 
Now that the tensions of courtship were over , was Priscilla always going to be so difficult to entertain ? 
I next wondered if she would like to bear down on Shaftesbury Avenue and see a play . 
Priscilla fingered the knob on the bed and looked shocked . 
She thought there was something immoral about going to the theatre on what was , after all , the only wedding night she was likely to have for some time . 
It was my turn to look shocked . 
When , did she suppose , would the subsequent one take place ? 
If that was her wish , I was prepared to retire at once and leave the way clear for my successor . 
No doubt he was already skulking in the precincts . 
Priscilla laughed a little . 
At this point I must put down , within inverted commas , the words Priscilla next chose to use . 
Luckily I am not introducing her by one of her more stupid remarks . 
" How long will it take you to realise , " she said , " that the only thing I want to do this evening is what you keep on trying to put off in such a nasty way ? " 
I could have no doubt of what she meant . 
If we had not been married , this would have qualified as an indecent proposal . 
I experienced a pang of regret that it was Priscilla and not I who had given voice to the thought . 
But the regret was quickly overwhelmed by the stunning knowledge that this , suddenly , was just the right room , just the right hour , for what we had in mind . 
The curtains shivered at the window in a slight breeze . 
The evening sunlight glowed like skin on the stuccoed houses opposite . 
The room was already darkening , and Priscilla was standing by the bed , one half of her face in shadow , the other gold with a faint reflection of the sun . 
A gleam caught the edge of her lip , the corner of her eye . 
I could not believe I had married this quiet breathing creature . 
" Well , " I said slowly , "all right . " 
I thought afterwards it was an inadequate reply , but I had no time now to see it for what it was . 
Nor , evidently , had Priscilla . 
She heaved an enormous sigh , and I thought I saw a tear glimmering over her eyelash . 
Her mouth opened slightly to my kiss and moved beneath it . 
And that kiss grew with a leap into a mammoth sensation of the sort our former love-making had always been obliged to restrain . 
My hand swam through her hair and pushed her face into the kiss . 
Her eyelids dropped under the weight of it , her arms came up under my shoulders and closed over them , and a low aching cry rose in her throat . 
I had never heard anything like it . 
The kiss broke , as kisses do . 
But this was really the first ever , because it was no longer an end in itself . 
We no longer had to return to embarrassed reality , smooth down our clothes , wipe off smudged lipstick and suggest putting on another record . 
It was safe to dance on the edge of the precipice . 
We were licensed to jump . 
I have forgotten no detail of the scene that followed : Priscilla behaved unforgettably . 
With the assurance of that kiss still between us , she drew the curtains so that the fading day was narrowed to a slot of deep amber light , then stood on the opposite side of the bed , her eyes stark and unpretending and fixed on mine , and began unbuttoning her blouse . 
" I am beginning to take off my clothes , " she said distinctly . 
" You are not yet used to this sort of thing . " 
I watched her with care . 
She might have been giving a cool demonstration to a class of novitiates . 
Her movements were precise , practised and unemotional . 
I fumbled hopelessly with my tie in a blurred imitation of her neat and methodical unclothing . 
She slipped out of her blouse , unzipped and dropped her skirt , and stepped out of it as though alighting from a bus . 
School had taught me that this was the sort of thing men were normally privileged to watch only through keyholes . 
But here I was , my senses involved to the point of suffocation in the rustling magic of a woman 's undressing , and the fact that impressed me most was the purity of it : the simplicity of soft white materials , almost as insubstantial as light , which covered the sweet body in its own shape and slipped off it as quietly as a shadow covering the sun and left the dark skin beneath . 
With hair flopping over her shoulders , Priscilla squatted like an animal and , thrusting out first one leg and then the other , ran her stockings smoothly down and pulled them over her ankles . 
With every garment she removed , her body appeared to pass more duskily into the shadows until she stood in the nude , almost negligent in her attitude , not moving any more , as natural as a tree that has shed its leaves , as casual as a secretary waiting to take a letter . 
" That 's what it 's like , " said Priscilla . 
" You 'd better get rid of any other ideas you might have had . " 
Then like a child she climbed clumsily into bed and sat up shivering with the blankets round her shoulders . 
I put the coins from my pocket on the mantelshelf . 
" Do you always do that ? " she enquired . 
" Yes , " I said . 
" Otherwise , you see , it pulls the pockets of one 's trousers out of shape . " 
"I do see that , " said Priscilla . 
She seemed interested , so I explained a few more masculine habits which she might not have encountered . 
I informed her about braces : to save trouble in the morning , one should remove them from one 's suit the night before and lay them out ready to be buttoned to another pair of trousers for the new day . 
As my reason for rejecting suspenders , I said that I had been told by doctors that they were apt to bring up varicose veins on the legs . 
Priscilla uttered a groan . 
" Let me see your legs , " she said . 
I showed her one . 
She pronounced it satisfactory . 
Then I noticed that she was not looking at my leg at all . 
I climbed hastily into bed . 
" But I like it , " she said . 
5 
PERHAPS we had read too few books . 
I once knew a man who took a pride in practising on unsuspecting ladies the advice put forward by authors of handbooks in respect of trial blandishments , eccentric positions and so forth . 
If he did not care for the result , he addressed witty letters of criticism to the publishers . 
He was a wise fellow , and I had been wrong to question his morals . 
Perhaps , on the other hand , we had expected too much from an activity which is , after all , no more than a convenient method devised by nature for reproducing the species . 
Anyway , whatever lay behind it , it was all a ghastly flop . 
To begin with , as we lay side by side like effigies , Priscilla seemed to have put the whole business out of her mind . 
She suddenly began to talk about bicycles , of all ridiculous things . 
" When I was a girl , " she said chattily , " I used to ride a bicycle . " 
"Oh , really ? " 
"Yes , and I was quite a horsewoman in my way too . " 
We had always been very much involved in the present during the old days before the wedding , so this was something I had never suspected about Priscilla . 
It was quite interesting . 
On the other hand , I could have wished for a more suitable moment to digest such confidences . 
My sense of fitness began to tussle with my natural inclination to listen sympathetically to anything Priscilla cared to say . 
" So it would n't be what you might think , " said Priscilla . 
" Life never is , " I suggested , in a philosophical tone . 
" It would probably be just the strain of gymkhana jumping and cycling madly all over the place . 
It can happen . 
" Are you thinking of taking up riding again ? " 
I asked . 
" No , " said Priscilla . 
I did not reply . 
There was a decent interval of silence . 
Then , rather in a rush , activity took place . 
I hardly like to describe it . 
The bed creaked protestingly . 
I had visions , not of love , but of waiters dashing into the room with scandalised expressions . 
My mind wandered . 
The sweat broke out all over us , so that in a trice we were struggling through sticky intolerable tropics of our own making . 
My hair itched and I could n't scratch it . 
I ricked my back . 
Our bodies jumped nervously away at the slightest touch . 
Wriggling like an eel , Priscilla complained of being tickled and her hand , raised in hysterical defence , caught me painfully in the eye . 
I pictured a free fight such as one sees in films and thought how much more manly it was than this display of total incompetence . 
Indeed I felt , when for a moment we paused and sank back on the damp pillows , that a fortnight of debauchery could scarcely leave me more drained and feeble . 
I had put such agonising effort into the achievement of nothing . 
I could feel the veins bulging in my head and my heart beating in angry frustration . 
In the bedrooms the children were preparing to sleep . 
In turmoil and excitement probably , because of the strangeness , and being packed together . 
What was Thomas doing ? 
He liked to watch them ; he wanted children now ; he might be undressing Bobbie . 
And Aunt Mary ? 
She would be alone , as always . 
She would be plaiting the iron hair in two stiff little pigtails , and when that was done she would sit on the edge of the wide , lonely bed she had claimed for herself , and she would rub her legs , and sigh , and she would pull over her head the voluminous wincey nightgown with the tucks on the bodice and the round collar up under her chin . 
And when at last she lay down she would rise out of the bed in rigid humps , like a mountain . 
She would not lie relaxed and peaceful , as though she were resting , but iron hard , as though she were still fighting . 
Kate and Thomas came back along the hall , at ease and smiling . 
Children on the point of going to bed , freshly washed , are at their most lovable . 
" Hullo , " said Thomas . 
" It 's quiet . 
Where are the others ? " 
"Sheila and Hugh are fixing the boat , " said Esther . 
" Do you think they can manage ? " 
"What was wrong ? " 
"What was wrong ? " said Henry . 
" What do you think was wrong ? 
Bash , bash on the weatherboards all day ! 
I 'm tired of it ! 
I told him to fix it or take it away ! " 
"And I told you it was to stay there ! 
Even if it did bang ! 
What can the boy do about it ? " 
Thomas slammed up the window . 
He climbed out on the verandah roof , calling " Hugh ! " 
The wind washed in a great gob through the house , sending the curtains up to the ceiling . 
In a few minutes Thomas came back , grasped the sill , and looked in . 
" Where are they ? 
Goddammit , where are they ? " 
Nobody answered . 
Then , " What do you mean ? " said Kate . 
Thomas climbed in the window , catching his foot on the sill and tumbling to the floor . 
He picked himself up in a frenzy , ran into the blue bedroom , almost knocking Teresa down , hurled up the window there . 
The stern mooring line of the little boat hung straight down into the water . 
Of the boat there was no sign . 
Thomas rapidly hauled on the line . 
The end came up . 
It had been cast off into the water . 
Thomas ran back to the landing , hung out the window there . 
The mast and sail , which he had laid in the guttering were gone . 
He closed the window , turned to the old man , and said in a choked voice , " I could kill you ! " 
For a while it was Teresa they must cope with . 
She was completely frantic . 
She would have attacked her father but that they pulled her away , and Kate took her into the only free bedroom , where for a long time she tried to calm her . 
Julie dragged off shoes and stockings and searched in the kitchen for aspirin , because there was none in the bathroom . 
The water in which she waded was cold , thick and repulsive , and she shuddered all the time , but it was not only with distaste of the water and the smell of it which was now permeating the house . 
The clammy flood reached to her thighs , and she could not keep her clothes dry . 
She had tucked her skirt up , but it trailed in the water . 
Dusk was now thickening in the corners , and outside the water slapped , not below , as when one was upstairs , but round about , butting about one 's ears , pummelling , menacing , with all too little to keep it out , keep it from engulfing one . 
She found the aspirin at last , and climbed the stairs , to where Thomas was waiting . 
He would not leave the old man . 
He would not let him out of his sight again until they were all safe . 
He had wanted to rush out , to swim to the boundary fence , at least , to see if he could see them , but there was no sense in it . 
There was no doubt where they had gone , downstream , to Sheila 's home , which , as Henry pointed out , aggrieved , was n't far . 
There was no reason , he said , why they should n't be perfectly all right . 
" But not sailing , " Thomas had said . 
" They would n't need to sail , " said Henry . 
" Just drift there . " 
"They have only one oar ! " 
"They can use it to steer with . " 
All of which was true , and no doubt Sheila and Hugh would be perfectly safe . 
Unless they tried to come back . 
Which they would be anxious to do , knowing their absence would cause alarm . 
At the thought of it Thomas grew cold . 
Sheila probably knew nothing of sailing , and Hugh thought he knew it all . 
There was one comfort , if Bob Higgins were at home he would stop any such foolhardiness . 
But was he at home ? 
That was what Sheila had gone to find out . 
Thomas took the aspirin and gave it to Esther . 
" Julie , you 're wet . 
You must change . " 
"I 'll find something . 
Thomas , its growing dark . 
Had n't I better bring up a primus and some tea ? " 
"I should fetch them myself . " 
"I can manage . " 
"Bring some things on a tray . 
Then you must change . " 
Julie went down again . 
The shadows were growing deeper , the water sounded louder , both what was outside and what she was pushing through . 
It made such a weight against her thighs , and the cold edge of it was a knife on her body . 
Was it as high before , or do I imagine it ? 
She began to shudder again . 
Do n't be silly . 
Think what you need . 
The big tray was on the kitchen table . 
The primus , too , that Aunt Mary had used . 
She shook it . 
It seemed full . 
But do n't forget the methylated spirit . 
Cups . 
A few will do . 
We can wash them in the bathroom . 
The tea caddy . 
The biscuit barrel . 
Both of willow pattern and as old and familiar as the milk jug , which would be in the refrigerator . 
She could not open the refrigerator door . 
The weight of water against its lower part was too much . 
Bother , I do n't like tea without milk . 
But I 'd better leave it . 
To open the door would spoil some food anyway . 
Thomas has matches . 
The lamps are upstairs . 
And the candles . 
I do n't know what else . 
Sugar , yes . 
Bread . 
And butter . 
A few knives . 
We sha n't starve overnight anyway . 
But can I carry it all ? 
It 's a good thing we have rainwater tanks . 
We do have something to drink . 
Oh ! 
Kettle and teapot . 
It 's awfully hard to walk in the water . 
Am I tired ? 
It was n't so hard before . 
She was lifting the tray before she noticed water washing across the table . 
Now fear caught her . 
The flood was reaching towards her waist , was covering the kitchen table . 
Water dripped from the tray as she lifted it high . 
Her heart hammering , she began to wade from the kitchen . 
" Thomas , " she said , as he came down to meet her , and took the heavy tray , " Thomas , the water is deeper . 
It 's nearly up to my waist . " 
He looked at her , nodded . 
" Do n't go down again , Julie . 
For anything . " 
"Thomas , I did n't feel another wave . " 
"No . 
But it 's risen quickly , all the same . 
Now go and change . 
I 'll watch the water . 
Do n't worry . " 
Julie padded off to find some clothes , wondering , in spite of all the worry and fear and the tiredness which was beginning to clog her , whether she at all resembled Aunt Mary doing the same thing . 
Esther gave her a frock and a warm dressing gown , and she changed in the bathroom . 
When she came back Sophie and Esther were sitting dejectedly , Henry was dozing , and Thomas peering into the dusk . 
But of course he could see nothing . 
" Are the children asleep , Sophie ? " 
"More or less . 
I 've threatened them with everything . 
They 're settling down . " 
"Oh , darling , do n't cry . " 
For Esther had pulled out her handkerchief . 
" Cheer up , " said Sophie . 
" But all the same , why did n't I find me a husband at home in Wellington ? " 
"Do n't you use your handkerchief . " 
Julie tried to joke a little , and then Kate came back , looking as though she too were ready to give way . 
It would be better if the children were here , thought Thomas . 
They would pull themselves together . 
He came from the window and lit one of the lamps . 
The soft yellow light flickered , then settled , pooling so that the corners of the landing were still shadowed and remote , and peopled , suddenly , to Julie , by the ghosts now awakened . 
First Grandmother , of course , erect and certain , not fighting like Aunt Mary , but just — completely sure of herself . 
From the tip of her feathered toque to the heels of her speckless shoes she was groomed , polished , perfect and unapproachable . 
And Uncle John who was killed in Flanders , and who had become a legend and a symbol , someone for Grandmother to pin her prayers on , so that one never knew exactly what kind of person he was , and never would . 
His two brothers who had been a disappointment , and so were never mentioned , skeletons in the family cupboard . 
But they were there now , inhabiting the shadowy , shifting corners of the landing . 
Did Esther notice them ? 
" How is Teresa ? " asked Thomas . 
" She 's lying quietly now , " said Kate . 
" I think she 's all right . " 
"Poor girl , " said Esther . 
" Hugh and Sheila are quite safe . " 
Thomas spoke angrily , as though trying to convince himself . 
Esther wept again . 
Kate bent over her and said " Weep now if you must , Mother , but I ask you , please do n't weep for him when he 's dead . " 
She gestured towards her father . 
" If you do , I 'll remind you . " 
Sophie looked uneasy , and Esther startled . 
Then she said calmly " I 'll probably die first . " 
"No ! " said Kate . 
Quite suddenly she crumpled into a heap on the floor , laid her head against her mother 's knee and cried as though she would never stop . 
They were all utterly confounded . 
Then they became embarrassed , as though this were something not meant for them to see . 
Only Esther , after hesitating a moment , knew what to do . 
As though indeed Kate were a child at her knee , Rose or Jane or Sally , she placed her hand on Kate 's hair . 
She did not say anything , but the gesture was all that was needed , both to reassure Kate and to increase the feeling , in Julie and Sophie and Thomas , that they were intruding . 
They were all quite quiet and still . 
Only Henry 's head nodded , his eyes were closed , and his breathing loud and heavy , too loud in the quiet house , where it was almost dark , and they did not know what the night hours would bring . 
In Julie the peaks of this day could rouse no more emotion . 
She was , she felt , wrung dry and flaccid , like a cleaning cloth . 
The sight of Kate at her mother 's knee , where not so long ago she herself had ached to be , should have pierced her to the quick , and in truth she found tears wetting her cheeks , but by now she was so exhausted that she felt no jealousy and none of the hate she had resolved to bear for her sister . 
Nor pity either . 
She was worn out , and felt quite detached , and wished Kate had not broken down in front of them . 
Should I not feel for anyone ? she wondered . 
Is that the only way to live , the only way to avoid hurt , and make life bearable ? 
But she knew that was not the answer . 
And she thought , perhaps Mother is stronger than I realised . 
When she is needed she is there . 
Perhaps it is my fault I never sat at her knee . 
I can not lick the tears away . 
There are too many . 
Yet if I bring out my handkerchief Thomas will notice . 
And I 'm not crying , really . 
I feel quite calm and cold . 
But so tired . 
So deadly tired . 
Sophie rose at last , and went to the table . 
She tried ineffectually to light the primus , and Thomas came to help her . 
" No , you 're a humanist — so am I — I think . 
Words do n't seem to count where real feeling is concerned . " 
"You 'll only be able to judge of what 's happened by the way it turns out . 
And you must wait for that . " 
"I 'm so miserable — waiting ... " she confessed with trembling lips . 
He swore roundly into his beard . 
" Listen Nan , our personal desires can go haywire at times . 
If we all followed our desire what kind of a world would we live in ? 
Crime , disease , misery — no end to it . 
There has to be law and order — and basically we make our own . 
Try not to worry so much . 
Would you like me to have a word with Stuart ? " 
She started up wildly . 
" No . 
No . 
No . 
Keep out if this , Doc . 
You promised ... 
I 'll never forgive you if you speak of it to anyone ... " 
"You can trust me . 
I would n't care to tackle a man on such an issue . 
It would be interesting to hear what he is thinking right now . " 
"Oh , he 'll be congratulating himself on a lucky escape , " she said bitterly . 
In spite of or because of the confession Nan was feeling better . 
Doctor Benson had almost forced it from her , and she knew that he was right , in spite of wilful desire to hug her unhappiness to her bosom . 
His reasoning had given her another train of thought . 
He went to the cupboard where he mixed them both a drink . 
" Drink this , Nan — and chin up . 
What ca n't be cured must be endured . 
You 'll survive . " 
"A more unfeeling remark would be hard to find . 
Ugh ! 
Whisky . 
I hate the stuff . 
I do n't know how you can drink it , Doc . " 
She drained the glass however , and handed it back to him , before uncrossing her legs and going to him . 
" Thank you for everything . 
I think I get the general impression . 
I 'm still miserable though . " 
They exchanged smiles . 
" It 'll stop — in time . 
And if it does n't you 'll learn to live with it . " 
He sat down by the open window , while Nan went upstairs . 
She thought of his words . 
He knew their truth as few could do . 
She remembered the war , when he had his hand on the door of his home when the bomb fell , taking with it all he held dear . 
His wife , his child , and the child to be born — and he had n't sought solace elsewhere . 
He 'd learned to live with pain . 
" I 'd say he was happy — most of the time , " she mused . 
Was that because , having made his choice — he stayed with it , as he had advised her to do ? 
Chapter Nine 
NAN WOKE AT dawn prompted by a memory that eluded her at first . 
She got up and dressed , and stood by her window , gazing out across the garden to the road , and beyond that the beach . 
In the early light the sands appeared lifeless , ugly , dark . 
The birds had started their dawn chorus and it may have been this that had wakened her . 
Her gaze swivelled towards the yacht , standing far out to sea like a graceful gull riding the waves . 
Near at hand was Jimmy 's small rowing boat to which he had recently attached an outboard motor . 
She could hear the chugging distinctly in the quietness . 
Two men were aboard ... 
Stuart and Jimmy . 
She watched them for some time , seeing their absorbing interest in what they were doing . 
Lobster would figure prominently on the menu at the yacht today . 
Yet Stuart was after more than lobster fishing , Nan knew . 
He was too big a man to waste time on anyone without sufficient reason . 
Doc had only judged from what she had told him , yet the other side the story went so much deeper . 
There could be no sharp division as one believed when one was young . 
Nan saw that now . 
The judging must come from one 's own experience , one 's own conscience , and understanding . 
What the world thought did n't matter . 
She saw one of the clumsy-looking lobster pots being hauled on board and its contents taken out . 
This was repeated several times and she tired of watching . 
She would have given much to know the conversation between the two men as they worked . 
All day she worked , keeping thought at bay , trying to win back to tranquility . 
The old house shone with the extra polishing for which she found time . 
Mrs. B. was washing , hanging out the clothes on the line in the back garden , revelling in the soft breeze that had sprung up . 
Nan worked herself to a standstill . 
When night came she was thankful to relax . 
Charles and Doctor Benson were both absent from the house for it was always a busy time for them when so many visitors flocked to the village . 
Their surgeries were packed , making their calls later and later in the day . 
Jimmy brought two lobsters , dressed ready for the table . 
Nan laughed when she saw them . 
" I saw you out on the water at dawn , " she told him . 
" Yes , Mr. Maxwell was keen . 
He 's done deep sea fishing in Bermuda , Alaska , all over the world . " 
So it was of that they talked ? 
Nan waited , putting the lobster on a dish . 
" They are fine ones , Jimmy . " 
"Yes , I 'm taking on that job , Nan . " 
He looked at her expectantly . 
" Are you ? " she turned away . 
" Are you glad about it ? " 
"Yes , It 's a step in the right direction for me . 
Maxwell is a fine chap . 
He says he 'll help me a lot if I 'll stick with him . 
He says it will be permanent too . 
He wants me right away . 
I 'm boarding the yacht tonight . " 
"Oh , no Jimmy ... " 
She was aghast at this . 
" Sorry ? " he asked teasingly . 
" Yes . 
I 'll miss you . " 
His face changed its expression . 
" I 'll miss you , Nan , but it wo n't be for long . 
I promise that . 
I 'll be home every chance I get . 
Let's have a walk , Nan ... it 's our last chance for a while . " 
They spent an hour together , talking nostalgically as they wandered slowly down the coast road to the village . 
Nan felt hedged in by sadness which she tried to dispel for Jimmy 's sake . 
It was only later that she realised that he might have misunderstood her sad mood , taking it to himself . 
He would think she was sad at his going . 
When they returned to the house he stopped her with a gentle force she could not withstand . 
" Nan — you 'll wait ? 
Promise you 'll wait . 
I would n't go if I thought otherwise . 
It 's real with me . " 
"Oh , Jimmy , I ca n't promise . 
I wish I could . 
I wish I knew . " 
She sighed against him . 
" Try to forget about me . 
You 'll meet lots of other girls . 
Why has it to be me , Jimmy ? " 
"There 's no one to hold a candle to you , Nan . " 
He whispered the words for he was always shy of expressing his feelings . 
" You 're beautiful and strong and ... the girl I want . " 
"Do n't be hurt , Jimmy ; I ca n't be tied down yet . " 
"Will you give me a definite answer at Christmas ? " 
That was what Charles had said — that it had to be yes or no with Jimmy . 
He could n't understand her hesitation . 
She felt his eagerness and was sorry because the failure was within herself . 
She returned his kiss because that was all she had to give . 
" Yes , I promise I 'll give you an answer then . 
You may be the one to feel glad that I did n't promise . 
You may meet someone else . " 
"No . 
We 've known each other too long for that . " 
"Perhaps too long , Jimmy . " 
"Think of me . " 
"Yes . 
Now , you 'd better go . 
Good night — and good-bye ... 
Jimmy ... " 
He left her abruptly . 
She heard his footsteps on the road , brisk , sure of himself , and where he was going . 
She turned back to the dark house , where only the light above the surgery door showed like a pool . 
Stuart stepped into that light , making her start for she had not known there was anyone near . 
He must have stayed in the shadows until he heard Jimmy leaving . 
There was a moment of silence , hard to break . 
Nan felt as if her breath had run out at the top of her head , leaving her suspended , her lungs helpless . 
" Saying good-bye to Jimmy ? " 
Stuart said . 
" You saw for yourself , " she was thankful when her voice followed her will . 
" Why did n't you speak sooner ? " 
"I did n't want to spoil your last tender moments together . " 
She let this pass because she hated him when he sneered . 
" I 've been waiting for over an hour , cruising around on my own in the car , then I knew you must return sometime . 
Where have you been ? " 
"Surely that is my affair . " 
"Answer me . " 
"We went for a last walk together — just talking . 
Any reason why we should n't ? " 
She went ahead of him into the house , switching on all the lights as she went . 
There could n't be too much light at that moment and she prayed that either Doc or Charles would come soon . 
Stuart followed her . 
" Not any reason . 
Charles is with Hilary — bidding her good-bye for a while . 
This kind of thing is contagious . " 
"I hate it when you sneer about Charles and Hilary . " 
"I was n't sneering . 
I 'm just jealous as hell ... " 
She gave him a disbelieving look . 
" Please — do you mind ? 
And while we are alone , will you tell me the real reason why you gave Jimmy that job ? " 
"To get him away from here . " 
"I thought so . 
It wo n't make any difference . " 
"I gathered you were making him wait — too ... " 
The inference was not lost on her and she flushed hotly . 
" Who told you so ? " 
"He did , or words to that effect . " 
She turned her shoulder , offended in a way she could not explain even to herself . 
" Had n't you better go ? " 
"I too , came to say good-bye . 
I told you it was catching . 
We rather missed out on that yesterday . " 
"Your fault . 
Thank you for the flowers by the way . 
They are very beautiful , but you need n't have gone to so much trouble . 
I was pleased to give Brownie the goldfish on her own account . " 
"Oh , I did n't send the flowers for that reason . " 
"No ? 
How is she , by the way ? " 
"In robust health as usual . 
Mrs. Tyler is finding it a bit of a strain looking after her on deck . " 
"I 'm sure . 
She is such an active child . " 
"So — it 's good-bye , Nan . 
You made me angry but I 'm over that now . 
I hope you have forgiven me . " 
"Quite , " she agreed quickly . 
" Then we could do the job properly perhaps . " 
She moved across the room . 
" No . " 
"Scared ? " 
The jibe came softly . 
" I think I am . 
Her compliance closed the way to him completely . 
" You do n't trust me . " 
"Good-bye Stuart . 
I hope you enjoy the remainder of your trip . " 
He thrust both hands in his pockets and lounged closer , a pulse beating intermittently in his temple . 
" I 'm taking Brownie back home , then going to America . 
I 'll be away some time , Nan . 
This is something I must do . " 
She wondered why he was at such pains to explain his movements . 
It had nothing to do with her . 
He could go round the world and she would not care — much . 
She glanced secretly at the clock , wondering how to get him out of the house . 
She felt uncomfortable as she stood with her hands on the back of the old chair . 
" Would you like some coffee ? " she offered , hoping he would not accept . 
" Thank you . 
That would be nice . " 
"I wo n't be long . " 
When she reached the kitchen he was close behind her . 
He watched as she measured the coffee , and she wished she had a fund of small talk with which to keep him entertained . 
It was obvious that he had come to say more than good-bye . 
" I left something in the car , " he said , and went out the back way . 
While he was absent she prepared the tray with cups and saucers and sugar . 
If only he 'd go ... she thought desperately . 
The ordeal was more than she could bear at that moment . 
The peace she had gained in Jimmy 's company was fast being dispelled . 
Here he checked the mare 's pace to a gentle amble , and round a bend in the road they came upon a low and elegant little house , standing back behind a red brick wall with creepers that scrambled over it by a small , green-painted gate . 
In the road outside the gate a young and pretty governess was just setting out for a morning walk with her charges , a little boy and a little girl . 
The children had hoops in their hands , and it was with the greatest difficulty that they were restrained from bowling them into the mare 's legs . 
Hudson brought the gig to a stop and raised his hat to the lady . 
Then , tossing the reins to the groom , he swung himself down into the lane beside her . 
" Good morning , Miss Greenwood , " he said , and Horatia thought she had never heard so much feeling put into such a prosaic greeting before . 
" Oh ! " said the little governess , blushing deeply . 
" Good morning , Mr. Crankcroft . " 
Then she turned to the children . 
" You may bowl your hoops to the corner and back , " she told them brightly . 
" And see which can get back to me first . 
But no cheating , mind ! 
Sam , you are not to trip Sukey as you did last time ... 
And Sukey , you are not to bowl your hoop into Sam 's deliberately ... " 
"No , Miss Greenwood , " they cried , and they were off , their small legs flashing down the lane , the little boy 's long white trousers not quite as quick as his sister 's frilled pantaloons in spite of her long skirts . 
In their absence the little governess turned breathlessly to Hudson . 
" Mr. Crankcroft ! " she said urgently . 
" Hudson ... 
You know we agreed that it should be Hudson , Sophy ! " 
His teasing voice was tender as well . 
" Hudson then ! ... 
This is madness . 
I told you not to come here . 
The children will talk and I shall lose my situation , and your father will find out that you are meeting me and he will be furious with you . 
I can not be the cause of a quarrel between you and your father , and you must not be the cause of my dismissal . 
We must not meet any more . " 
"But we are going to meet , and as often as we can . " 
Hudson 's voice was firm . 
" Sophy ... darling , dearest Sophy , I must go on seeing you because I shall die if I do n't . 
And you would not like me to die , would you , from such a cause ? " 
He was teasing again , but he was serious , too . 
The children had reached the corner of the lane and were arguing hotly before starting back again , and the little governess caught at his arm . 
" Do n't you see , " she cried , " a governess , even in such a kindly household as the one I am in , has no life of her own ? 
She must not . 
Her only reason for being in the house is to look after the children and to teach them their lessons . " 
She glanced back at Horatia , sitting there in the gig in her funereal garments . 
" Better you should forget me , " she said gently , " while there is time . " 
"But there is n't time , " he replied . 
" Because I have already fallen in love with you , Sophy . " 
He introduced Horatia to her , stressing the fact that she was a young friend of Lady Wade . 
" I am afraid I have made her a catspaw this morning , " he explained . 
" But you need have no fear of her . 
She is a very kindly catspaw , and I know that if she can she will fish our chestnuts out of the fire for us . " 
Horatia beamed her approval from the depths of her bonnet , and Sophy gave her a timid little smile . 
But the children were coming back , their hoops racing ahead of them , and she could only implore Hudson to leave her before she met them . 
As they flung themselves upon her she told them they had both won , and neither was an inch before the other , and then she took them away for their walk in the opposite direction , without another glance at her lover . 
Hudson drove back to Regent 's park in silence , and Horatia felt sorry for him . 
A hopeless love affair was almost as bad as having coping stones on your head . 
But the March morning was sunny and blustery and the buds were thickening in the trees . 
There was a freshness in the grass , too , promising that April was in the wings waiting for the signal to take the stage , and as they entered the park Hudson asked his companion what she thought of his charmer . 
" Is she not the loveliest creature you have ever seen ? " he asked . 
He was obviously head over heels in love with his Sophy , and Horatia was able to oblige him by agreeing with him . 
" She is very pretty , " she said . 
" And she looks sweet-tempered and gentle and kind . 
I congratulate you , Mr. Hudson . 
Do you intend to marry her ? " 
"I do indeed . 
I have never met another girl like her , you see , and I do not suppose I shall ever meet such a one again . 
Therefore I dare not let go the chance , and directly I can prevail upon her to do so I shall make her my wife , though I have nothing to offer her except debts . 
We shall have to live on bread and cheese and kisses . " 
"I have heard that it is a satisfying diet , " said Horatia demurely , and he shot a quick glance at her and grinned . 
" I say , " he said , "you know what is in their minds , I suppose ? 
Lady Wade and my father , I mean ? " 
"No . " 
She looked blank . 
" How could I ? " 
"Why , they 've got the idea that you and I ought to make a go of it . 
Had n't you twigged it ? " 
"But ... " 
Horatia coloured . 
" That is absurd . 
Why , your father has met me but once in his life ! " 
"That does n't matter . 
He would not care if he had never met you at all . " 
"Oh , now I understand ! " 
She was mortified . 
" It 's that wretched money again ! " 
"Quite so . 
That wretched money , as you say . 
Is n't it a peculiar thing that half the world suffers from having no money , and the other half from having too much ? 
And of the half that has too much I 'd say that half of them again love money and the other half hate it . " 
Horatia agreed that it was all extremely unfair . 
Here was Hudson , only wanting to marry his pretty Sophy and having no money to do so . 
And there was herself , only wishing to live quietly in the country among horses , without coping stones falling on her head , and being heiress to a fortune that everybody appeared to want , and because they could not get at it without her , suffered her as well . 
It was neither a flattering nor a gratifying prospect . 
" Mr. Hudson , " she said earnestly , " I apologize . 
It is the first time you have taken me out , and I promise you that it may be the last . " 
"Oh , please do n't say that ! " 
He apologized in his turn . 
" I was clumsy in the way I put it , but I wanted to be frank with you , Miss Horatia , because you are such an honest sort of person that I could not be anything else . 
But , indeed , if you really wish to be my friend , you will accompany me tomorrow , and the next day and the next . " 
Her mortification left her and she laughed . 
" And all so that you shall meet your Sophy in her country lane ! " 
"You 've hit it , ma'am . " 
"But you will be raising your aunt 's hopes and your father 's anticipations to a cruel degree . " 
"If they are foolish enough to have such hopes and anticipations it is scarcely my affair . " 
Horatia laughed again . 
" Well , I can not say that I approve . 
You must remember that I am taking your aunt 's hospitality , and , if your plans go right , on entirely false pretences . 
I will come with you tomorrow , but more than that I can not promise . " 
They turned away from Oxford Street towards the British Museum , and presently clattered over the cobbles into Bounty Street , and in front of Number Eleven they were surprised to see a phaeton drawn up — a very new and expensive phaeton — with a pair of fine horses in the shafts that Horatia recognised at once . 
" Why , " she cried gladly , "I believe it must be Mr. Latimer ! 
I 'd know that cattle anywhere ! " 
Hudson glanced at her oddly , but he said no more than a mild , " A friend of yours , Miss Pendleton ? " as he pulled in his little mare behind the vastly superior equipage in front of his aunt 's door . 
" He gave us a ride into Brighton in his carriage after the stage had left us stranded in Lewes , " she explained hastily , and did not wait for the little groom to help her down . 
She put her foot on the wheel and dropped easily to the ground , and came up the steps to Number Eleven just as the front door opened and Mr. Latimer himself came out , a look of deep displeasure on his handsome face . 
Horatia and her escort had been gone about half an hour when old Lady Wade , indulging in her usual occupation of watching her neighbours from behind her parlour curtains , observed a new phaeton turn into the street and stop outside her own front door , and although she did not recognize it or the horses she knew the driver at once . 
She was sharp enough to know that a morning visit in such a brand new carriage — evidently brought there to impress the sadly inexperienced Miss Pendleton — would not be paid for the sake of herself : an enquiry and the formal leaving of a card would have been sufficient for her . 
But Mr. Latimer had given the reins to his man and was mounting the steps of Number Eleven himself , and she had no doubt that it was the news in the morning 's paper that had sent him after Horatia . 
" Once they know where she is , all the fortune-hunters in London will be after her like flies after bad meat , " muttered her ladyship , scowling darkly through the curtains at Mr. Latimer 's broad back , and was in two minds as to whether she would receive him before telling Josiah to show him in . 
If her visitor was disappointed that Horatia was not with her he did not show it . 
" I came to assure myself that neither your ladyship nor Miss Pendleton were any the worse for your journey last week , " he said . 
She looked him up and down . 
" I took no harm from the journey , thank you , " she said disagreeably . 
" But I 'm afraid I can not answer for Miss Pendleton , as she is not here . " 
He flushed and his eyes glinted with temper , but his voice was controlled and courteous enough as he replied : 
" Come now , madam , I 'm not an emissary from the young lady 's uncle , that fire-eating Sussex squire . 
But she is young and inexperienced in the ways of the world , and I wanted to be certain that she is safe and in good hands . 
If she has left your house , perhaps you will be kind enough to tell me where she has gone . " 
And without being asked , he sat himself down as if the whole day was before him . 
Her ladyship was alarmed . 
She did not wish him to be there when Horatia returned ; she thought quickly and she thought hard and then she said sharply : 
" I can relieve your mind on that score then , Mr. Latimer . 
Miss Pendleton is still with me . 
When I said she was not here I meant to say that she was not in the house : she went out for a drive with my nephew in his new gig . " 
And here she glanced out of the window at the phaeton as if to say that he was not the only man to have a new carriage that morning . 
" She was looking a thought pale — the effect of the London air , I daresay , after the country . " 
She gave a shrill cackle of laughter which the parrot behind her echoed with great veracity . 
" What ! " he cried , like a man astonished , " have you loved me and I been so inconsiderate as to make myself unworthy of your love ? " 
"Did my eyes never tell you what I looked for in yours ? " 
"I never had the boldness , " he answered , " to make any such construction of your looks . " 
"Your fear was the effect of indifference , " I said , " still , no more of what is past . 
Tell me now ; can you love me ? " 
"Rather ask me , Ma 'm , " he confessed , " if all the affection of my soul can merit your love ? 
And whether the Earl of Leicester , whom you design to make the happiest man on Earth , shall not carry the day from me . " 
"The Earl of Leicester , " I explained hastily , " was but a pretence to make you speak ; I told you then the thoughts I truly had of you . 
My trouble was not small , both in your absence and since your return ; but all is now forgotten . " 
He answered me with some disorder which I imagined the effect of sudden joy . 
I thought it time to be no longer scrupulous , that it was in vain to have any reserve when I had said so much . 
" I will not let you go under any uncertainty , " I proceeded , " but to convince you clearly of the truth of what I 've said take this ring , as the highest mark of my favour . 
Keep it as a pledge of my love , which I charge you to preserve , and on that condition I promise never to deny you anything you shall desire when you shew it ; though it cost me my life ! " 
His joy at receiving the ring was in appearance extraordinary and unparalleled , and attended with promises of as high a nature . 
He left for Ireland in a few days leaving me fully persuaded his thoughts were wholly taken up with me . 
But he had scarce advanced upon the rebels than he was charged with all the crimes that brought about his imprisonment , together with that of the Earl of Southampton . 
Then it was I began to repent I had not given ear to the wholesome advice Cecil would have given me concerning the secret conduct of the Earl of Essex . 
In a word , while my thoughts were wholly employed to make his fortune he was plotting with the Earl of Tyrone to surprise and make me prisoner ! 
You know the rest : his obstinate resistance , his want of respect for my orders , his imprisoning my ministers , his murdering my soldiers , and his intolerable pride in all his misfortune . 
So ended the Queen 's confession , which having called fresh to her mind all that had passed between her and Essex made her more troubled than ever . 
The Countess of Nottingham had listened with keen interest , for she , as well as the Queen , had been in love with the Earl of Essex ! 
But newly understanding the reason for his coldness it added infinitely to her former resentment . 
She had no mind to condemn the Queen 's weakness knowing herself guilty of the like , nor was she inclined to speak in favour of a man who had grown so much the more odious to her as she had formerly loved him . 
She thought it sufficient to comfort the Queen with words that seemed to proceed only from loyalty , when in truth her thoughts were wholly bent for the ruin of an ungrateful lover , who , in her eyes deserved nothing but hatred . 
Though the Earl of Essex did not fall for the Countess of Nottingham , yet another was her admirer , whose character did in a way make her amends . 
It was Secretary Cecil , who , amidst his great offices and the gravity that became them , discovered in the beauty , ingenuity , and personal charm of the Countess of Nottingham an attraction that made him capable of strong feelings for her . 
This was heightened by their mutual hatred of Essex , Cecil having always looked upon him as an invincible obstacle to his ambitious pretentions , whilst the Countess had against him all the rage of an aversion that usually succeeds rejected love . 
They were glad of the imprisonment of the Earl of Essex , but the favourable inclinations the Queen expressed alarmed them . 
The Countess had no sooner taken leave of the Queen than she gave Cecil an account of all she had learnt . 
Having considered the consequences they concluded it necessary , while their sovereign pined secretly for the prisoner , that ways should be found , without their appearing conspicuous , to take away the mercy which love might well inspire her with . 
Cecil , for the first step , pressed the Queen to bring Essex to trial , and caused certain news of his death to be spread throughout England . 
Essex , meantime , was busied with thoughts of more weight than those of his life . 
He knew well enough the Queen loved him , also that he had deceived her , and that she might with a great deal of justice , not only reproach but condemn him . 
The Queen had not seen him since his departure for Ireland , but not having the power to give him up to his ill-fortune she resolved to go to his house , where he was prisoner , to reproach him as he deserved and endeavour if possible to find him innocent . 
It was not far from Whitehall to Essex House , and the Queen so arranged the matter that no notice was taken of the visit , having been introduced by her confidants . 
Essex was very surprised at the arrival of the Queen , and the languishing condition she was in made her weak in his presence . 
All was in his favour , the victory seemed easy . 
He addressed her with the utmost respect , but upon doing so she broke down , crying bitterly for some minutes . 
" Well , Robert , " she began , after a pause , " you see what I do for you , notwithstanding all the crimes I can reproach you with . 
I have come with a design to hear you , to see if you have anything to say to justify yourself . 
I have loved you too well , and wish it above all things ; but I would that Heaven were pleased your justification might be realised even by the most precious thing in my power ! " 
"My greatest crime is that I thought myself too secure , Ma 'm , " replied the Earl , desperately . 
" Had you rested there ! " said the Queen , " I should have been too well satisfied . 
But to believe yourself secure , was it necessary you should betray me ? 
And did you have need to use violence , to make yourself master of a fortune I was willing to share ? 
What reason had you to seek protection from the Kings of Scotland and Spain ? 
Did any interest force you to correspond with Tyrone ? 
And was it for the safety of my person you designed to make me your prisoner , and his ? 
All you have done since to my subjects , against my orders ; are these the expressions of your respect ? 
Is it by this murder and treason that you shew your devotion to me and the public ? 
Or is all we have seen and heard of you but an illusion ? " 
"Yes , Ma 'm , " he said , " those accusations of treason and evil design have run me upon the desperate resistance I made . 
You have been pleased to heap favours upon me , and I too proud of what I so little deserved flattered myself with the expectation of a thousand pleasures , which you had not forbid me to hope for . 
This let loose the envy and jealousy of others against my good fortune . 
They abused your Majesty with misinformation and I had the misfortune to be assured you had ordered my arrest , although my innocence would have persuaded me to the contrary . 
I confess , I was enraged to see my enemies gloat over my downfall , being abandoned by your Majesty and on the point of suffering , perhaps , a shameful death . 
I thought it neither good for my reputation , nor your Majesty 's honour , that I should die as a criminal . 
This forced me to those ends they reproach me with and the resolution I took to go out of England in hopes to confound my accusers . 
But I found all ways of escape closed , and must acknowledge that in so desperate a condition I took revenge on your ministers . 
They , Ma 'm , and only they , were the object of the rebellion I am charged with . 
My design was that those who had so industriously laboured to make me appear guilty should do me right in declaring my innocence , and permit me to lay it , and my life , at your Majesty 's feet . 
I never doubted that your Majesty would have done me the honour of a fair hearing . 
And that by a clear discovery of the truth I should have certainly frustrated them . 
But their malice has had success : to see me a prisoner , hated by my sovereign , despised by the world , and made a sacrifice to their rage . 
And now , what remains , that I receive the sentence of death pronounced by them , and see Cobham , Cecil , Raleigh , and their fellows , share the favours you honoured me with ? " 
"Be assured I do not hate you , " said the Queen , interrupting him , " but shall I believe you ? 
Yet should I not believe ? 
Can I give you up to your ill fate ? " 
"I shall never murmur against your Majesty 's orders , " replied the Earl , " but submit to them readily whatever they may be . " 
The Earl of Essex knew the weak side of the Queen , and easily revived in her that love he had formerly inspired her with . 
" No , " she said , having paused a while , " you shall not die . 
Make use of your advantage , triumph over a heart whose inclinations you very well know . 
I will believe your intentions less criminal than they appear , but , Robert , I warn you by that love of which you have particular experience that you give me no cause to repent of it . 
Trouble not yourself for your reputation and honour I will take care to repair it , and before two days be over I will restore you to the highest place you ever held . " 
Essex , overcome with joy by the success of this meeting , affected the Queen so much that he restored her spirits to perfect tranquility . 
At parting she promised to call the Council on the following day , and , in an ostentatious manner , declare him innocent . 
As soon as it was daylight , she sent for Cecil ; the Countess of Nottingham attended her . 
Having told them in a few words of a great conflict between her Justice and her Mercy , she concluded for the latter , and ordered Cecil to summon the Council that she might declare to them the design she had to set Essex at liberty , assuring him she had invincible reasons for doing so . 
This was a mortal blow to the ambitious Cecil and the Countess of Nottingham ; they looked at one another perplexed , as if they would have asked each others advice on what course was to be taken . 
Afterwards they spoke to the Queen in hopes to divert her , but she was inflexible ; Cecil was forced to order an Extraordinary Meeting of the Council . 
But while the Earl of Essex 's enemies thought his good fortune on the point of being reconciled to him chance laboured for them with unexpected success . 
As the Queen was going to Council word was brought that the Countess of Rutland desired an audience . 
The Queen blushed as she remembered what was past , and looking on the request as unreasonable and unlucky she was minded to put off the Countess to another time . 
But considering that she never denied any person access , and that the Countess of Rutland was a Lady of the highest repute , she commanded her to be admitted . 
Though her face was sad , her dress and gait very careless , yet her beauty was outstanding . 
Moving forward she threw herself at the Queen 's feet . 
" Madam , " she cried , " I come to implore your Majesty 's goodness for the unfortunate Earl of Essex ! " 
"For the Earl of Essex ? " 
JOE JOE 'S NOTICE-BOARD BY B. A. McPHEE 
" { Un paquete de cigarillos , seno2r , " said the man with the small cloth cap , the white arms and the cheery tourist smile . 
" You mean a packet of cigarettes , " Joe Joe replied in English , first regretting his abruptness , then on instant reflection not regretting it but thinking that perhaps he should have been even more curt . 
These tourists were trying on one 's patience at times , with their vague ill-pronounced Spanish and their standard benign smiles . 
Joe Joe had once thought of putting up a notice reading " A LITTLE ENGLISH SPOKEN HERE . " 
He had actually obtained the board , and his friend Jose2 Puerette2 had gallantly volunteered to paint it for him free of cost . 
They had set to work early one evening , Jose2 with a large tin of purple paint , which he said he 'd found on the wharf , and a strong brush borrowed from Carlo Berrano , the owner of the only hardware shop in Pasto Del Sol . 
However , the word " SPOKEN " had presented an unsurmountable problem . 
Joe Joe had to admit that the spelling of the word was beyond him , and he knew no one that night who could help him in any way . 
So the work had stopped there ; for Jose2 had to get the paint back to the wharf before morning , in case , as he said , " the person who owns it wants to use it . " 
In point of fact , Joe Joe was glad that the notice-board had never been completed and that it was instead cast into the back of his shop with the empty wine-bottles and the vegetable-bags — dust-covered and useless . 
He had discussed the matter at length with Seno2r Juarez , who had once been on the town council and who was able ( so it was said ) to combine aesthetic appreciation with a fine business brain — a rare quality in any man . 
It was also widely known that Seno2r Juarez had composed a poem , and a few close friends of his had heard this poem recited , but only after a lot of persuasion on their part and a lot of vinos on the part of Seno2r Juarez . 
Seno2r Juarez had advised that it was unsound practice to deprive a tourist of the pleasure of trying to speak a little Spanish . 
He had been told once , he said , that some English tourists took courses in Spanish especially for their annual holidays , and these people must be humoured and encouraged to use this knowledge of which they were secretly very proud . 
If they were n't pampered in this way they could find no justification for a fortnight 's idleness in the sun , and indeed their main sense of purpose was destroyed — they thereby suffered a slump in morale and concluded that Pasto Del Sol was an ungrateful place and would determine to go to Italy for their holidays next year . 
Although Joe Joe could not understand all of what Seno2r Juarez had said , there was no doubt that one should accept the advice of an experienced and educated man , and especially one who had been on the town council and had written a poem . 
Life was difficult , Joe Joe reflected . 
Seno2r Juarez was not afflicted with a temper such as his , nor did he run a little shop which , during the summer , was often filled with tourist people who all smiled at you widely in the same tourist way , and expected you to smile widely back at them in such a manner as to indicate that you were pleased that they had smiled at you . 
Joe Joe made up his mind to see Father Brenes at the little church on the hill about his problem . 
It was n't that he liked burdening Father Brenes with his minor worries , but the good and kind Father had assisted him once before about the same thing , and had n't he said , " If this occurs again , Joe Joe , then please come to see me : I 'm always ready to see one of our little flock . " 
That was the time his wife Maria had called him an " under-grown donkey " and after , when he had restrained himself from saying anything in reply , she had thrown a melon at him , and this when his back was turned and he was looking out of the window for guidance . 
Then he had all but lost his temper . 
As he said to Father Brenes at the time , "I nearly swore at her , Father . 
It was only by clasping the window-sill and clenching my teeth that I saved myself from uttering a blasphemous word . " 
"You did right , my son , " Father Brenes had said . 
" You did right to clench your teeth and clasp the window-sill and utter not a word . 
But you were wrong in even contemplating using such a word , because the proper Christian attitude is one of patience , tolerance and understanding , and two wrongs do n't make a right . " 
So now he hoped that he would not feel any similar temptations , but it would be especially difficult if Maria threw another melon at him when his back was turned . 
" ... 
And two boxes of matches , " the white-armed tourist continued , the laughter having gone from his voice . 
Joe Joe cut a piece of brown paper with the large wooden-handled all-purpose knife , wrapped up the cigarettes and matches and handed them to the now somewhat disinterested customer . 
" Gracias , " acknowledged the white-armed one , a suggestion of a smile returning to his lips . 
" Adios , seno2r , " Joe Joe said . 
Maria called down the steps that descended to the shop from the two rooms above , which formed their little home . 
" Joe Joe , " she shouted , "when are you going to close the shop and clean the fish which are making my kitchen smell like a fish-shop ? " 
"I am going to close the shop now , Maria , " he answered resignedly , " and I will then clean the fish which are making your kitchen smell like a fish-shop . " 
Maria was sitting in her usual position in a heavy and ornately designed wooden chair given to her by her mother at the time of her marriage to Joe Joe . 
Since then it had occupied a large area of the small kitchen . 
She had an almost irritating habit of shuffling her feet on the bare boards as she sat and sewed . 
She was carefully embroidering a lace handkerchief , as she had been doing for six weeks now . 
" I ca n't smell anything , " Joe Joe commented as he came up the stairs sniffing loudly . 
" It 's all right for you , " his wife replied sharply , " down in that shop all day while I 'm stuck here with two uncleaned fish for company . " 
Joe Joe nearly said , " Why did n't you clean them yourself , by Saint Christopher ? " but remembered Father Brenes and instead picked up the fish and began scaling them with the all-purpose knife . 
He glanced over at Maria as she sat there in her formidable high-backed chair with her six-weeks ' lace handkerchief on her knee , and as he put one fish down and picked up another , his mind drifted back to the night , many years ago , when he and Maria had together sat on the little pebbly beach that adjoins the beach of Pasto Del Sol . 
He and Maria had been courting then . 
She had stolen away from her Mama ( a significant woman ) to meet him below the cliff-face at the far end of the bay . 
Together they had sat throwing hard , round pebbles into the dark waters , and there was a moon that was not a full moon but was nevertheless the finest moon that Joe Joe had seen up until then . 
Maria had long black hair when she was young . 
It reached down her back in a broad sweep . 
It was her pride and joy , and the pride and joy of her Mama , and the talk of the lads at the Market Square on Saturday nights . 
Her eyes were deep and dark , and her waist one of the slimmest in the village . 
It was possible to wind the cane band at the top of a lobster-pot round it with ease . 
That night he had trembled . 
Trembled at the calm , dark waters , the moon and the pebbly beach . 
Trembled when he touched her long warm fingers and heard her soft low pebbly-beach voice . 
Then he had kissed her red lips , once , clumsily but strongly . 
The night had been still and silent and even the waves slumbered . 
He had said to her , as they sat there mute together , " Maria , my lovely Maria , I want you to marry me , " and she 'd replied with a spontaneity which amazed him . 
" I will , Joe Joe , my darling little Joe Joe , but we must wait until your father lets you have his shop for yourself and then we may make our home in the two rooms above the little shop . 
It is best Joe Joe , and Mama would think so too . " 
Joe Joe had been so elated and the months succeeding had been so blissful that he had become less and less aware of Maria 's four large front teeth , which protruded from her mouth very sharply , and which also were the talk of the lads at the Market Square on Saturday nights . 
Now the ebony black hair was discoloured with grey strands and tied in a tight and severe bun . 
Her eyes were still deep and dark it was true , and flashed , it was also true , but somehow in a different way . 
Now it would be impossible to wind around her waist even the lowest band of a lobster-pot , and the voice of the pebbly beach was no more . 
Joe Joe finished getting the fish washed and laid them neatly on a large flat plate . 
He cleaned the all-purpose knife with the long wooden handle and put it away carefully . 
Taking up his sombrero and with a quick " Adios " to Maria , who did not take her eyes from her sewing ( for strict concentration was required ) , he walked out of the door with his hands deep in his pockets . 
It was Joe Joe 's custom to keep his hands in his pockets on the way to the Cafe2 Del Costa , since he could count the coins he had there as he walked along and thereby gauge the number of cognacs he would be able to purchase . 
At the cafe2 he met his friend Jose2 Puerette2 , as he did every evening , and the two friends shook hands warmly and sat at their usual place at a table in the corner . 
" Well , Joe Joe , my friend , " Jose2 said ; " the fish were not biting today , but the water was calm and the sun was hot and my brother and I were not greatly disappointed . " 
Jose2 and his brother were the joint-owners of a fishing-boat which , laden with nets , set off from the beach every morning just as the sun peeped over the mountains at the back of Pasto Del Sol , in an almost fruitless search for fish . 
It was said ( allegedly by rivals ) that the Puerette2 brothers , who had not been fishermen for long , lacked the native instinct of the others whose fathers and whose fathers before them were fishermen of the bay , and that this accounted for their singular lack of success in obtaining hauls . 
Others said that they spent too much time in siesta and that they would pull round one of the rocky inlets to the north of the bay and anchor there , sleeping , munching bread and drinking wine . 
Joe Joe did not really believe this latter story which he suspected was invented by Jose2 's wife , a hardworking but mean woman with sharp cheek-bones . 
In fact , Jose2 was a resourceful and practical person who , one afternoon when the boat had started to fill up with water from a large leak , had calmly awakened his brother and then had swum ashore to enlist help , leaving his brother to tread water so as to mark the spot where the boat had sunk . 
With the aid of other boats the craft had been brought to the surface and towed ashore , and Jose2 had that night accepted many congratulationary cognacs proffered him by those who admired his quick thinking and coolness in a crisis . 
Never speak to strange men BY DIANA ATHILL 
Conversation , as Oscar Wilde might almost have said , is the easy art of losing friends and alienating people ; if you 've ever been inescapably bound by the threads of conversation of two such gentleman as Mr. Ball and Mr. Baring , you 're likely to agree . 
If you have n't , take warning and plan an escape route in advance . 
THERE are often too few chairs on steamers which visit Adriatic islands , and those few are shackled together , to be queued for until a morose sailor consents to unlock them . 
This gives them rarity value . 
Uncomfortable though they are , it seems a privilege to have one , even if you would rather be leaning on the rail . 
So if two men insist on giving up their hard-won deck-chairs to two women , it would be ungracious of the women to refuse . 
That was how I and my cousin Laura met Mr. Ball and Mr. Baring . 
They came from Oldham , had been visiting a Trade Fair , and were now on a spree , intending to spend one night in the town for which we were bound . 
Mr. Ball , who boomed and had three strands of hair trained across his skull , was about fifty-five . 
Mr. Baring , who whispered and wore pince-nez , was seventy if he was a day . 
They were probably the kindest men we shall ever meet and they were both mines of information on draught-proof floor coverings and plastic paints . 
Mr. Ball was also widely travelled and had brought back from Malaya , Peru , Queensland , and the Friendly Islands an astonishing collection of statistics concerning measurements . 
He could — and did — describe how high , wide , deep , thick and heavy was any object you might like to name in any of those places . 
Mr. Baring was less enterprising . 
This Trade Fair had been his first journey abroad and his preoccupations were chiefly dietary . 
By the end of the first morning Laura , who has less sense of social obligation than I have , had sidled out of her deck chair and was sitting on a hatch beside a medical student with a guitar . 
I was still stuck , and trying to view the experiences as a salutary discipline . 
I hope that Laura and I travel to see new places and enjoy new beauties in nature and art , but it is true that when we have encounters we like them to be worth having . 
The encounters I had imagined for this journey were certainly remote from Mr. Ball and Mr. Baring in everything but sex ( if , in this context , you could call it that ) , but I reminded myself of how kind they were and I told myself that anyway it would be over when we reached our destination . 
That was the first day . 
On the second I was beyond thought . 
I was not suffering , but I had become numb in all my faculties ... a point of boredom I had never reached before . 
When lunch came round again it seemed to be by immemorial custom that I was listening , as I ate , to an account of the exact dimensions of Mr. Ball 's verandah in Kuala Lumpur ( some eighteen inches longer than his verandah in Lima ) , and the weight of the largest and the smallest sweet potato he had ever eaten . 
Meanwhile , as inertia crept up on me , the venerable Mr. Baring was becoming more lively . 
At first he had been slightly oppressed by his companion 's sophistication , but when the talk turned to food he perked up to the extent of telling me which breakfast cereals his grandchildren preferred . 
The journey ended that evening . 
As the gang-plank went down , Mr. Ball said to me , " I suppose you have a room booked ? " 
"No , " I said , without thinking . 
" We 'll get an address from the tourist office . " 
"You 're in luck ! " exclaimed Mr. Ball . 
" Look what I 've got . 
A letter from the tourist chief in the capital to his man here , telling him to look after us . 
You just stick with us and you 'll be all right . " 
Laura began to edge backwards against the surge towards the gangway . 
I began to babble about being a nuisance — but it was too late . 
The porters had been unleashed , Mr. Ball had caught one and handed over our baggage as well as his own , and there we were on the quay with our benevolent friends , obviously " together . " 
Other people were borne off in large numbers towards adventure . 
Laura and I ( not , I suspected unhappily , on speaking terms ) got meekly into a taxi with Mr. Ball and Mr. Baring , the last traces of our initiative vanishing as we did so . 
We were visiting a small , thickly walled and lovely town with straggling outskirts . 
The straggle was long and thin — the mountains came too close for it to spread backwards — and unless you were careful , we knew , you could find yourself staying some way from the old town . 
We had hoped to find rooms within the walls , or only just outside , and before Mr. Ball got to work on the tourist chief we said as much . 
" Oh no , " he said , shocked . 
" You would n't like that . 
You would n't like the noise . " 
"But cars are n't allowed inside , " I pointed out . 
" It is n't cars . 
It 's the talking and the music — they go on all night in these places . 
And besides — the drains . 
We 'll find a nice , clean , modern place , do n't you worry . " 
We were not worrying , we were panicking , but I was still numb and Laura was speechless with rage . 
We could not think of words that would not have been rude and wounding to this kind , kind man . 
So before long Mr. Ball , Mr. Baring , Laura and I were being welcomed to an eminently respectable , exquisitely clean , comfortable , modern house , a good half-hour 's walk ( the trams did not go that way ) outside the walls . 
And then , before the night was out , the rains came . 
It rained and blew for five days without stopping . 
Since it was August , widely advertised as the Adriatic 's most benign month , we had not stopped at bringing no raincoats and no umbrellas : we had brought no coats and no sensible shoes either . 
Had we been staying in the town itself we could each day have darted across into the City Cafe2 where it was possible to live a full life for hours on end without setting foot out of doors ; we should have had a choice of eating places within a few yards ; we could have danced every evening . 
As it was , on the rare occasions when the rain diminished to a drizzle we would hurry out in an attempt to reach the town before we were drenched . 
Once or twice we did reach the town — but never before we were drenched , and about the only amenity not provided by the City Cafe2 was a drying room . 
All this , as an act of God , might have been borne . 
The truly testing aspect of the situation was that no aeroplane could take off from the airfield , and Mr. Ball and Mr. Baring had planned to return to their Fair , after only one night , by air . 
The local inhabitants , anxious for their district 's reputation for clemency , had decided that the best thing to do about all this rain was to belittle it . 
Yes , of course , they said every morning at the airline office , " It will stop tonight , planes will certainly be leaving tomorrow . " 
So our friends did not change their plans and go by boat . 
No . 
They were immured with us in that spotless house for five of the longest days I have ever lived through . 
We expected them to be fretful at this grave hitch in their plans , but they did not seem to mind it . 
Mr. Ball had known far longer and — incredible as it seemed — duller delays on savannah and prairie , about which he now had time to tell us in detail , while Mr. Baring , though gently distressed at first , in the end found his imprisonment positively rewarding . 
To begin with , his digestion was upset , and this led him to the discovery of yoghourt : a discovery which he was clearly going to recall throughout his declining years as an important event ; though perhaps not always at half-hourly intervals , as he did at the time . 
However long we stayed in bed every day , we had to get up at last — and there they would be , cheerful and kind , ready for talk and paper-games involving arithmetic of which , it turned out , the resourceful Mr. Ball knew a great many . 
When they said charming things to us — how grateful they were for our company , how pleased to have found us such a nice house — we could not meet their eyes . 
Mr. Baring sometimes made it worse by taking us aside and whispering that if we wished to go out and enjoy ourselves , to escape from two old fogeys , we must not hesitate to do so . 
Conscious of our bilious rage , suppressed , we feared so badly , we were driven by guilt ( not to mention the rain ) to effusive protests . 
Good heavens no , what nonsense , we would say , and settle down to another paper game . 
The climax of each day came at dinner time . 
We might have been listening to wild music , we might have been dancing , we might have been meeting young men with bold , flashing eyes ; and instead , because our landlady served no meals , we would splash across to the next-door pension under umbrellas held by Mr. Ball and Mr. Baring , there to eat { 6Wiener schnitzel at a long table with seven middle-aged married couples from Wuppertal . 
Relief came on the sixth day . 
Having learned that bits of purple storm cloud look deceptively like blue sky when seen through the chinks in shutters , we had not bothered to consult the sky . 
The first we knew of the weather 's change was when Mr. Ball knocked on our door and told us that a taxi had come to take them to the airport . 
" Well , young ladies , " he said , " we have shared an interesting experience . 
The rainfall in these last five days has been half as much again as the average for the four months June to September , inclusive . " 
As the taxi bumped away we collapsed on our beds and exchanged the first look we had dared to give each other since our arrival . 
We still had five more days in this legendary place . 
" We 'll move this morning , " said Laura . 
" We 'll move right into the very middle of the town and we 'll find a room above a cafe2 which has music , looking on to the market place . " 
"And what 's more , " said I , " we 'll hardly ever be in it . 
I 'm only going to stop swimming in order to eat , and stop eating in order to talk , and stop talking in order to dance . " 
But as we spoke our landlady came in . 
She carried a tray on which were two little glasses of cherry brandy and two big slices of home-made sponge cake . 
" { 3Sun , yes ? " she said . 
" { 3I am so 'appy for you , " and she beamed with pleasure . 
Not only was she the mistress of a respectable , clean , modern house , but she , too , was — oh ominous word — as kind as kind can be . 
How could we possibly run out on anyone so admirable , for no definite reason ? 
Thus , though our holiday had begun at last , we were still under the wing of Mr. Ball and Mr. Baring . 
Try as we might , no harm was going to come to us . 
In the small hours of each day left to us , after some nineteen hours of sight-seeing , swimming , talking , drinking , and dancing , we still had to leave those bewitching noisy streets ; we still had to trudge for half an hour back to our eminently respectable lodgings . 
And so respectable were they that once we had reached the door our escorts — those , that is , who were stalwart enough still to be with us — never dreamed of doing anything more than shake our hands . 
Here , in this country village , she had spent her childhood . 
Here she had first been in love . 
The white people seized on the slightest word , Nature took the lightest footfall , with fanatical seriousness . 
The English nurses discovered that they could not sit next a man at dinner and be agreeable — perhaps asking him , so as to slice up the boredom , to tell them all the story of his life — without his taking it for a great flirtation and turning up next day after breakfast for the love affair ; it was a place where there was never a breath of breeze except in the season of storms and where the curtains in the windows never moved in the breeze unless a storm was to follow . 
The English nurses were often advised to put in for transfers to another district . 
" It 's so much brighter in the north . 
Towns , life . 
Civilisation , shops . 
Much cooler — you see , it 's high up there in the north . 
The races . " 
"You would like it in the east — those orange planters . 
Everything is greener , there 's a huge valley . 
Shooting . " 
"Why did they send you nurses to this unhealthy spot ? 
You should go to a healthy spot . " 
Some of the nurses left Fort Beit . 
But those of us who were doing tropical diseases had to stay on , because our clinic , the largest in the Colony , was also a research centre for tropical diseases . 
Those of us who had to stay on used sometimes to say to each other , " Is n't it wonderful here ? 
Heaps of servants . 
Cheap drinks . 
Birds , beasts , flowers . " 
The place was not without its strange marvels . 
I never got used to its travel-film colours except in the dry season when the dust made everything real . 
The dust was thick in the great yard behind the clinic where the natives squatted and stood about , shouting or laughing — it came to the same thing — cooking and eating , while they awaited treatment , or the results of X-rays , or the results of an X-ray of a distant relative . 
They gave off a fierce smell and kicked up the dust . 
The sore eyes of the babies were always beset by flies , but the babies slept on regardless , slung on their mothers ' backs , and when they woke and cried the women suckled them . 
The poor whites of Fort Beit and its area had a reception room of their own inside the building , and here they ate the food they had brought , and lolled about in long silences , sometimes working up to a fight in a corner . 
The remainder of the society of Fort Beit did not visit the clinic . 
The remainder comprised the chemist , the clergyman , the veterinary surgeon , the police and their families . 
These enjoyed a social life of a small and remote quality , only coming into contact with the poor white small-farmers for business purposes . 
They were anxious to entertain the clinic staff who mostly spent its free time elsewhere — miles and miles away , driving at weekends to the capital , the north , or to one of the big dams on which it was possible to set up for a sailor . 
But sometimes the nurses and medical officers would , for a change , spend an evening in the village at the house of the chemist , the clergyman , the vet , or at the police quarters . 
Into this society came Sonia Van der Merwe when her husband had been three years in prison . 
There was a certain slur attached to his sentence since it was generally felt he had gone too far in the heat of the moment , this sort of thing undermining the prestige of the Colony at Whitehall . 
But nobody held the incident against Sonia . 
The main difficulty she had to face in her efforts towards the company of the vet , the chemist and the clergyman was the fact that she had never yet been in their company . 
The Van der Merwes ' farm lay a few miles outside Fort Beit . 
It was one of the few farms in the district , for this was an area which had only been developed for the mines , and these had lately closed down . 
The Van der Merwes had lived the makeshift , toiling lives of Afrikaans settlers who had trekked up from the Union . 
I do not think it had ever before occurred to Sonia that her days could be spent otherwise than in rising and washing her face at the tub outside , baking bread , scrappily feeding her children , yelling at the natives , and retiring at night to her feather bed with Jannie . 
Her only outings had been to the Dutch Reformed gathering at Easter when the Afrikaans came in along the main street in their covered wagons and settled there for a week . 
It was not till the lawyer came to arrange some affair between the farm and the Land Bank that she learned she could actually handle the fortune her father had left her , for she had imagined that only the pound notes she kept stuffed in the stocking were of real spending worth ; her father in his time had never spent his money on visible things , but had invested it , and Sonia thought that money paid into the bank was a sort of tribute-money to the bank people which patriarchal farmers like her father were obliged to pay under the strict ethic of the Dutch Reformed Church . 
She now understood her cash value , and felt fiercely against her husband for failing to reveal it to her . 
She wrote a letter to him , which was a difficult course . 
I saw the final draft , about which she called a conference of nurses from the clinic . 
We were wicked enough to let it go , but in fact I do n't think we gave it much thought . 
I recall that on this occasion we talked far into the night about her possibilities — her tennis court , her two bathrooms , her black-and-white bedroom — all of which were as yet only a glimmer at the end of a tunnel . 
In any case , I do not think we could have succeeded in changing her mind about the letter which subsequently enjoyed a few inches in the local press as part of Jannie 's evidence . 
It was as follows : 
{ 3Dear Jannie there is going to be some changes I found out what pa left is cash to spend I only got to sine my name do you think I like to go on like this work work work counting the mealies in the field By God like poor whites when did I get a dress you did not say a word that is your shame and you have landed in jale with your bad temper you shoud of amed at the legs . 
Mr. Little came here to bring the papers to sine he said you get good cooking in jale the kids are well but Hannah got a bite but I will take them away from there now and send them to the convent and pay money . 
Your Loving Wife , S. Van der Merwe 
There must have been many occasions on which I lay on my bed on summer afternoons in Worcestershire , because at that time I was convalescent . 
My schooldays had come to an end . 
My training as a radio-therapist was not to begin till the autumn . 
I do not know how many afternoons I lay on my bed listening to a litany of tennis noises from where my two brothers played on the court a little to the right below my window . 
Sometimes , to tell me it was time to get up , my elder brother Richard would send a tennis ball through the open window . 
The net curtain would stir and part very suddenly and somewhere in the room the ball would thud and then roll . 
I always thought one day he would break the glass of the window , or that he would land the ball on my face or break something in the room , but he never did . 
Perhaps my memory exaggerates the number of these occasions and really they only occurred once or twice . 
But I am sure the curtains must have moved in the breeze as I lay taking in the calls and the to and fro of tennis on those unconcerned afternoons , and I suppose the sight was a pleasurable one . 
That a slight movement of the curtains should be the sign of a summer breeze seems somewhere near to truth , for to me truth has airy properties with buoyant and lyrical effects ; and when anything drastic starts up from some light cause it only proves to me that something false has got into the world . 
I do not actually remember the curtains of my room being touched by the summer wind although I am sure they were ; whenever I try to bring to mind this detail of the afternoon sensations it disappears , and I have knowledge of the image only as one who has swallowed some fruit of the Tree of Knowledge — its memory is usurped by the window of Mrs. Van der Merwe 's house and by the curtains disturbed , in the rainy season , by a trifling wind , unreasonably meaning a storm . 
Sometimes , on those restful afternoons , I was anxious . 
There was some doubt about my acceptance for training as a radio-therapist because of my interrupted schooling . 
One day the letter of acceptance came by the late post . 
I read the letter with relief and delight , and at that same moment decided to turn down the offer . 
It was enough that I had received it . 
I am given to this sort of thing , and the reason that I am drawn to moderate and tranquil motives is that I lack them . 
I decided instead to become a hospital nurse and later to follow my brother Richard , who was then a medical student , to Africa , and specialise , with him , in tropical diseases . 
It was about a year after my arrival at Fort Beit that I came across Sonji Van der Merwe and , together with the other nurses , read the letter which was about to be sent to her husband four hundred miles away in the Colony 's prison . 
She posted the letter ritualistically the next afternoon , putting on her church-going gloves to do so . 
She did not expect , nor did she receive , a reply . 
Three weeks later she started calling herself Sonia . 
Our visits to the farm began to take the place of evenings spent at the vet 's , the chemist 's and the clergyman 's , to whose society Sonia now had good hopes of access . 
And every time we turned up something new had taken place . 
Sonia knew , or discovered as if by bush-telegraph , where to begin . 
She did not yet know how to travel by train and would have been afraid to make any excursion by herself far from the area , but through one nurse or another she obtained furnishings from the Union , catalogues , books about interior decoration and fashion magazines . 
Travel-stained furniture vans began to arrive at her bidding and our instigation . 
Her first move , however , was to join the Church of England , abandoning the Dutch Reformed persuasion of her forefathers ; we had to hand it to her that she had thought this up for herself . 
We egged her on from week to week . 
We taught her how not to be mean with her drinks , for she had ordered an exotic supply . 
At first she had locked the bottles in the pantry and poured them into glasses in the kitchen and watered them before getting the house boy to serve them to her guests . 
We stopped all that . 
A contractor already had the extensions to the house in hand , and the rooms were being decorated and furnished one by one . 
It was I who had told her to have two bathrooms , not merely one , installed . 
She took time getting used to the indoor lavatories and we had to keep reminding her to pull the chain . 
One of us brought back from the capital a book of etiquette which was twenty-eight years old but which she read assiduously , following the words with her forefinger . 
I think it was I who had suggested the black-and-white bedroom , being a bit drunk at the time , and now it was a wonder to see it taking shape ; it was done within a month — she had managed to obtain black wallpaper , and to put it up , although wallpaper was a thing unheard of in the Colony and she was warned by everyone that it would never stick to the walls . 
The Toothache 
Toothache on top of all this was too much . 
He had always taken great care of his teeth , even as a child . 
A child . 
His marriage was two months old and he wished that he was . 
Fifty years had passed in as many days . 
That made him seventy three . 
Another two to go . 
His life was almost over . 
He had come to the right place . 
The door was divided , like a stable door , into two equal leaves . 
He knocked on the upper leaf , a frosted glass panel with the name and profession in heavy black capitals . 
The upper half opened . 
A clean , florid face appeared and disappointment pricked him . 
—Yes ? 
—Would you ... attend to this for me , please ? 
The slip of paper was carefully scrutinised . 
Himself . 
The paper . 
Himself . 
—Are you the father ? 
—Yes . 
—Come in . 
The lower half of the door was unlatched to admit him into a room which seemed half church , half office . 
The ecclesiastical half was neat and shining , the official half untidy , strewn with papers . 
Nameless brass projections hung on the walls and looked as if they had been looted from a church . 
There were glossy photographs of the rest chapels in the city 's crematoria . 
The funeral director busied himself among his littered papers , and , in a few minutes , with the air of having solved a problem , pronounced , as if he expected his client to haggle : 
—That will be three pounds ten , young man . 
—Yes . 
He drew four new pound notes from his wallet , crossed the room , and placed them emphatically beneath the undertaker 's eyes . 
—It will be tomorrow . 
Will anyone attend ? 
—No . 
—Has it got a name ? 
—No . 
—Shall I inform you of the place of burial ? 
—No ... thank you . 
—Some people like to know , but best forgotten . 
—If the child had lived only a few days or weeks it would have had a name . 
And a stone . 
He felt he was apologising for not bringing better trade . 
—A different matter . 
But best forgotten . 
He seemed to have solved a problem . 
—It does n't often happen these days . 
He wondered how much a child of a few months would cost . 
—Right . 
I 'll see to it tomorrow for you . 
—Thank you . 
He turned to go . 
The business completed , the undertaker moved from the official to the ecclesiastical side of the room , and took his hand . 
—Put it there . 
I know what it is . 
I 'm a family man myself . 
With his other hand the undertaker held out a small receipt for three pounds ten and a crumpled ten shilling note . 
He took them and went through the divided door . 
—Good afternoon . 
—Good afternoon , young man . 
It had been the same with the registrar of births and deaths , when he had collected the certificate for disposal at the hospital that morning . 
Names . 
Dates of birth . 
1937. 1937 . 
Professions . 
Schoolteacher . 
Schoolteacher . 
The registrar wrote the date of the stillbirth. 19 February , 1960 . 
—When were you married ? 
—December the Sixteenth . 
—Nineteen Fifty Eight ? 
—No , last year . 
The registrar smiled . 
Who had selected him to endure this ? 
Time ? 
Like an ever rolling stream . 
There was comfort in that . 
His tooth ached . 
No comfort . 
There was time to kill before his dental appointment . 
There was always time to kill . 
You stood in the present and watched either the last moment die or the next being born . 
As they were ejaculated into being , his mind , like a spermicide , killed off the seeds of time . 
All his moments were dying . 
When you were seventy three you could only look behind you . 
At that age you walked backwards into the future . 
There was time to kill before his dental appointment , before he died . 
He would walk . 
To reach the dentist 's , which he had not thought to change , he had to walk from Town to Beeston , up the long hill that overlooked the rest of Leeds . 
It was very near his old home . 
Since he had left so abruptly he had not returned . 
The lack of forgiveness would remain mutual . 
His resentment would consume his guilt . 
Supposing he was seen ? 
Let them see him . 
Supposing he saw his mother at the greengrocer 's on the corner ? 
He would ignore her . 
He had written a terse postcard to tell them about the child and that was all . 
They would say it was a judgement . 
Besides if you were seventy three , your parents would be dead . 
All the names that had been heaped on them ! 
All the fragments of morality that had fallen about their heads ! 
The fifth and the seventh commandments . 
They had burned his photograph and the Bible he had kept at his bedside . 
Such as he had no right to possess that , let alone read it . 
It had only been an ornament anyway . 
A tit bit . 
A miniature edition , inscribed Joseph Carson , 1841 . 
He had picked it up in the market for a few pence , buried under the battered copies of Marie Corelli , Ouida and Hall Caine . 
After only two months of absence the familiar streets showed signs of considerable change . 
Instead of the lines of gas lamps he was shocked to find overhead sodium lighting , and there was demolition in progress on a row of terrace houses , almost the same as his own street . 
He stopped to watch . 
There was time to kill . 
Ahead of him a man on crutches stood watching the houses being torn down . 
That had not changed . 
The afternoons were always peopled by mothers and children under five , or by the aged and the maimed . 
All the able-bodied , like the demolition men , were at work . 
He himself would be back at school tomorrow morning . 
After his slight indisposition . 
A chill ? 
A bilious attack ? 
The blood on the stair , the floor of the ambulance , the attendants ' hands . 
At his feet on a pile of broken bricks , open at page 305 , lay the grey remnants of The Beauties of British Poetry : 
" The Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold , 
And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold ; " 
He turned the stiffened pages with his foot . 
Another by Lord Byron . 
Mrs. Hemans . 
Hogg . 
Two men with sledgehammers were poised on a high fragment of surviving wall . 
They might easily fall and kill themselves . 
This part of the city had worn badly . 
It was good to see it go . 
How doth the city sit solitary , that was full of people ! 
Seventy three . 
Fifty years had passed . 
You could expect changes in fifty years . 
Every change after fourteen years was for the worst . 
A plaque on the site testified that the work was being carried out by a member of The National Federation of Demolition Contractors . 
On it was a badge with a map of the British Isles . 
Great Britain and Ulster were in black . 
On the circumference of the badge , surmounting the Outer Hebrides , was a contractor 's crane . 
A shovel intersected Sligo and traversed Ireland as far as County Cork , where it emerged into the ocean . 
A pick in the North Sea had its point curved towards some coastal town beneath the Firth of Forth . 
A crowbar , its point of balance opposite the Isle of Wight , floated in the English Channel , extending , at a rough guess , from Plymouth to Brighton . 
Beneath all this was the date , 1941 , ( he was four ) , and beneath that the motto , RESURGAM . 
The cripple had moved off . 
He overtook him quickly , imagining the cripple 's envy at his straight , retreating legs . 
He turned round . 
The cripple 's head , as if it always had , hung , like a cartoon Christ 's , upon his breast . 
He was nearer to his old home . 
You could see almost all of Leeds from the crest of Beeston Hill , the roofs , the chimneys and the steeples , the higher civic buildings , the clock of the black Town Hall , to which he had listened , in his attic bedroom , striking the small hours of those mornings immediately before he left . 
The slightest earth tremor could level them . 
He could see the familiar landmarks that he had passed on his way up . 
The Salem Institute , Hudson 's Warehouse , formerly Wesley Hall , the gas cylinders , the truncated pinnacles of Christ Church . 
Some time ago , these had become insecure and the constant passage of heavy and rapidly increasing traffic had made them a danger to the community . 
The incumbent had sat for weeks at a trestle table , with placards ranged about him and fixed above the church porch on either side of what seemed to be a tinted photograph of Christ , beneath which was written in white capitals , COME UNTO ME . 
Who would go to that ? 
The faded figure held out its arms in a gesture of welcome . 
AN APPEAL FOR RENOVATIONS TO THE FABRIC OF THE CHURCH . 
£10,000 URGENTLY NEEDED . 
PLEASE GIVE GENEROUSLY . 
SAVE YOUR CHURCH . 
Hardly a tithe was raised and , with no regard for proportion , the dangerous finials and crockets were removed , leaving four stunted growths of stone , projecting from a square tower . 
They should have left them to fall down . 
Nearer to him was the large dome of a building , formerly The Queen 's Theatre , The Music Hall , the Queen 's Cinema , now an unwanted fixture , described as an excellent site for future development , becoming more and more dilapidated , devoid of players , stars or audience . 
Of the advertisement board above the entrance , between what had been two giant tulips , there remained only the word , TODAY . 
Just visible below , however , the Palace Cinema , formerly The Tabernacle , was still assertive . 
Its prices had risen , so they said , from fourpence to one and six or two and three . 
It had risen in the world . 
The city was senile too . 
Let the everlasting stars go out . 
They would all pass away as one , a slow driftage of stardust , crumbled brick and plaster , powdered flesh and bone . 
The dentist had his surgery in Cemetery Road on the very brow of the commanding hill . 
In the congested burial ground on his left the remains of his family from seventeen something were laid at rest , the butchers , the publicans , their wives , and some of their children . 
His father took flowers there almost every week and sometimes came home with the stains of clay on his trouser knees . 
The five sons , now dispersed in various parts of England , sent every year , with their Christmas Cards , a subscription towards an elaborate wreath . 
From the chair , as he was having his teeth tested and found wanting , he fixed his attention on the landmarks below him , to distract his mind from the pains of the dentist 's probe . 
Four of his teeth required treatment . 
Three new fillings and one about twelve years old that needed repair . 
He had forgotten about that . 
The tooth that ached was not to be extracted . 
It would just be possible to fill it . 
Of course , they were paid more for a filling . 
—Do you still clean your teeth regularly ? 
—Yes , of course . 
After every meal . 
—And you do n't eat sweets ? 
—No . 
—Or a lot of biscuits ? 
—No . 
No . 
—Mm . 
Your teeth are poorly resistant to decay . 
They gave you nothing to numb the pain of drilling . 
No cocaine . 
No laughing gas . 
The drill began . 
He stared at the heavens and the higher landmarks . 
He pinched his hand beneath the protective sheet . 
Birds circled within his vision , circumscribed by the tilted position of the chair , seagulls fleeing the storms on the North Sea or the Irish Sea , sparrows , starlings circling the stunted pinnacles of Christ Church , the dome of the Queen 's Theatre , the Music Hall , the Queen 's Cinema , the derelict , wheeling backwards and forwards above the Gas Works cylinders , the Salem Institute , and , nearer , settling on the houses on the hill immediately beneath the window . 
Concentrate . 
Transfer the pain into the hand . 
The birds soar as the pain is sharp on the crumbling tooth . 
They settle and it is subdued . 
The drill . 
The drill . 
They rise , they wheel and turn , around the stunted pinnacles , poorly resistant to decay , the Queen 's Theatre , poorly resistant to decay , the Queen 's Cinema , poorly resistant to decay , the derelict , the excellent site for future development , for future buildings , future derelicts , that will survive my teeth , my flesh and bone , my son , who died before he saw the broken world , that may survive my second or my third , their first , or be demolished , excavated , filled , plucked out , root and all , teeth and children torn out of their roots , the nameless flesh interred in nameless ground , the dead to judgement torn , Christ torn from the tomb , the roots , the judgement , the welcoming , the faded Christ , poorly resistant to decay . 
Maiden Offering Short Story by MAVIS FOREMAN 
She supported the dying hero 's head in her lap . 
" Have no fear , we shall meet again " he murmured . 
Belinda smiled through her tears for she too believed that true love reaches beyond the grave . 
The End . 
I wrote with a flourish , the tears coursing down my cheeks as I looked up triumphantly into my dressing table mirror . 
I am fifteen and have just completed my first real story . 
I have written it all sitting like this before my mirror apeing every expression of my hero and heroine , sharing their every joy and weeping at their many sorrows . 
It is such a sad story I can not stop crying , so it must be good . 
A story has to be sad and very mature and frank to succeed these days and I feel that mine is quite fearless . 
In a way the heroine is myself and the hero , Ben , is the boy I am rather keen about although he does n't take much notice of me . 
Of course he is quite a bit older , nearly twenty I believe . 
My story has two thousand and one words . 
I know because I have counted every word — two thousand and one ! 
Now I must dry my eyes and go and tell someone about it . 
I am so excited I just can not stop crying . 
It is reaction after all my effort . 
It is now two days since I finished " Death at Sundown " and I am not quite so happy about it although I still believe in it and in myself . 
But everyone has pulled it to pieces and I feel the heart has gone out of it . 
I think I shall do what Grandpa advised ... 
When I first broke the news to the family they were all very thrilled and Mother said I must read it to them as soon as we 'd finished supper . 
My young brother , Billy , was rather fed up as he did not want to miss his serial on the Radio and Father did not seem all that keen either . 
Mother , I could tell , was really interested and so was Grandpa . 
He did not say much but he kept looking at me and nodding his head . 
During the meal Billy kept trying to find out what it was about . 
" Is it rip-roaring ? " he said . 
" You 'll have to wait and see . 
It will spoil it if I tell you . " 
My Father looked at me then . 
" I did n't know you were a writer , Julia " he said . 
Grandpa chortled . 
" Takes after me — stories by the dozen once and a book " . 
" Really , Grandpa " , I breathed . 
" How many words ? " 
"Oh , fifty or sixty thousand , I ca n't remember . " 
"Golly ! " 
I said . 
" How many has yours ? " said Billy . 
" Two thousand and one . " 
Everyone looked impressed and Mother said proudly , " Julia 's going to be clever . 
I had a letter published once myself in some woman 's magazine , I forget which one . 
A household hint it was , something to do with pegs . " 
"Pegs ! " said Grandpa . 
" Did you say pegs ? " 
"Yes , pegs " said my Mother crossly . 
" It was quite a good washday hint . 
I ca n't remember just what now , it was a long time ago . 
I got ten and sixpence for it though . 
It was the time we were trying to get enough together to send you to that good school , " she added reminiscently to me . 
" How much will Julia get for hers ? " 
Billy said . 
" They pay quite a bit for a really good story , " Grandpa cut in . 
Billy looked interested . 
" Enough to buy a record player ? " 
"Hm . 
It would have to be pretty good to get that much , " Grandpa said . 
By this time they were all intrigued . 
Even Father seemed quite keen to hear it . 
So , after supper , we all settled round the fire while I read the tale out to them with much dramatic feeling and , once again , there were tears in my eyes when I came to the sad ending , but this time I managed to keep them from tumbling down my cheeks . 
There was quite a moment 's silence when I finished and I took it that all their hearts were too full to speak . 
Then they all said together , " Yes , it 's good , very good , " and Grandpa added , " A stout effort . " 
Only Billy remained quiet and when I looked at him pointedly he said . 
" It 's a bit like that silly film we saw last week with that smashing cowboy one . " 
"You are too young to appreciate it , " I said haughtily . 
" It is written for grown ups , not boys of nine and a half . " 
"They seem to spend a lot of time making passionate love , " Billy said . 
Mother coughed . 
" Yes , I thought perhaps that was rather ... " she tailed off lamely . 
" Oh , but Mother " I flared , "everything has to be like that now or it does n't have a chance — risque2 , they call it . " 
Father grunted . 
" I should have thought they would have caught their deaths of cold lying about in the snow like that " he said . 
" Oh , but it was n't snowing then . " 
"But it was the day he was killed . 
You said something about his " red blood on the white snow " . " 
"Oh , yes , " I said , " but that was another day . " 
I was beginning to feel cross now and slightly disheartened . 
There was a further silence ; then Father said , " I 'm afraid there are several bits regarding the Army that just would not happen — " 
Grandpa cut in quickly , " That does n't matter in a story . 
One does n't expect one hundred per cent accuracy . 
If it 's a good tale you can get away with that . " 
"In one bit you said she was a beautiful maiden of twenty and then later you say she has a squint , " Billy said . 
I glared at him furiously . 
" I said no such thing . " 
"Well , cross-eyed is the same . " 
"I said wide-eyed . 
All innocent maidens are wide-eyed . " 
"She did n't really behave like an innocent maiden , " said my Mother mildly . 
Suddenly , I had had enough and with a gulp I jumped up and ran from the room , my story clasped to my breast . 
The tears came angrily to my eyes again as I slammed my bedroom door . 
Why could n't they have left it alone , saying they liked it and then pulling it to pieces . 
Now , it would not seem right to me . 
Maybe I should alter it to fit in with their criticisms . 
Then Grandpa came in . 
He did not knock as he usually does , just walked straight in . 
He went to the window and stared out not looking at me and not saying a word . 
I gazed at his dear old back in the shabby , tweed suit and the funny little bald patch peeping from around the white tufts , a bit like a poached egg I thought irrelevantly , and said sadly , 
"I 'm going to alter it the way they suggested . " 
Grandpa flew round then his old face shining and red . 
" You do no such thing , " he said . 
" It would n't be your story any more . 
Leave it be child . 
It 's your very own creation . 
It 's fair enough . 
You 'll do better , but it 's fair enough for a start . 
You may use my typewriter to type it out if you like . " 
My heart was too full for words . 
This was indeed an honour ! 
So I typed my story on Grandpa 's typewriter . 
It is a very old typewriter and some of the keys are rather crooked . 
I can only type very slowly as I am quite a beginner so it took me a long time . 
I am afraid there were a few mistakes but I altered them all in red ink and Grandpa says it does n't matter how badly a story is typed ; if it has real merit it will sell . 
It was a wonderful moment when I pushed the paper clip into the pages and folded it into a foolscap envelope . 
I put another in with my name and address on it just in case . 
But , oh , I am sure it will be published . 
It 's just got to be ... 
For several days I have been walking on air imagining my story printed in the magazine — DEATH AT SUNDOWN By Julia Lane 
Then this morning I heard the plump of the letters on the mat and somehow I knew immediately that this was my moment . 
I raced out into the hall but , quick as I was , Grandpa was before me . 
He was straightening up and there was a long , foolscap envelope in his hand . 
I could see my own writing on it . 
" Shall we go to your room ? " 
Grandpa said very quietly . 
I followed him with an aching heart ; all the life seemed to have drained out of me . 
Grandpa sat down slowly on the bed . 
" I 'm afraid it 's a return , " he said . 
I bit my lip miserably and nodded . 
" You must n't mind too much , " Grandpa said . 
" Even the most famous writers started like this , some have years and years of frustration before they make the grade . 
Some never do , " he added under his breath . 
" Shall I open it ? " 
I nodded dumbly and he slit the envelope . 
Yes , there it was , my beautiful story and the paper clip had gone . 
I threw myself on to the pillows beside Grandpa and sobbed my heart out . 
He let me cry for a little then tugged me upright and handed me his handkerchief . 
" Blow , " he commanded . 
I did so and felt better . 
" You must n't let this beat you , " he said . 
" Try again , write something better . 
One day you will go to the door and there will be a little envelope with a publisher 's name on it ; in that moment , you will feel it was all worth while . 
And look , " he opened up my story , "your very first rejection slip . " 
I took it from him and read , THE EDITOR THANKS YOU FOR SUBMITTING THE ENCLOSED MS BUT REGRETS HE IS UNABLE TO USE IT . 
" He thanked me , " I said in wonder , " that was nice . " 
Grandpa nodded thoughtfully . 
" Keep it , " he said . 
" One day you may be able to laugh at it . " 
Up the Elephant Short story by ROY BOARDMAN 
AFTER tea Mum and Dad gave me the look they always gave me after our first meal when I returned to London at the end of the college term . 
They knew I was going out for the evening . 
Action and conversation followed the usual pattern . 
I yawned , surveyed the cramped room — the littered table , two armchairs , old football pools and bills stuffed behind the alarm clock , the dominating television screen — and said , " Oh , well , I 'd better go and let everyone know I 'm back . " 
"Where you goin' , son ? " asked Mum . 
" Up the Elephant , I think . " 
"You look after yourself , son , " said Dad lighting one of his hand-rolled cigarettes and leaning back in his chair , his striped braces straining over his striped shirt . 
" You know what the Elephant and Castle 's like . 
Mind you do n't get up to nothing . " 
"I might go and see Pete . " 
Pete was the " nice young man " Mum approved of . 
We had been contemporaries at the local secondary school until I had gone to college , he into Local Government , " He 's a nice young man , " said Mum hoping to begin a conversation . 
But I had my jacket on and my hand was on the doorknob . 
" Well , see you later . " 
"Nice of you to 'ave dropped in , " said Dad with terrible sarcasm . 
" Come again sometime . " 
I heard the knob of the telly click as I went down the stairs , and when I reached the front door a blast of music hit me in the back . 
It was twilight . 
The street was deserted and there were few lights in the windows of the two regular lines of houses that enclosed me . 
It was telly time for everyone . 
A few knife-edges of light slit the shrouded sky . 
I stood on the doorstep a while watching it , trying to decide where to go . 
A visit to Pete certainly did n't attract me , the conversation would die too quickly . 
But I wanted to talk to someone . 
Every time I returned from college I felt the need to meet people I used to know , to see the life I had known , to re-evaluate and see if I could feel some of the old desires . 
ALL THE GIRLS LOVE A SCHOLAR Short story by Malcolm Bradbury 
ONE FINE DAY in late August , a little more than a year ago , I put on some clean socks , pressed my trousers , and made my way across the downs to Southampton , where I was to take ship for America . 
After governmental minions had knotted my suits together and counted the contents of my wallet , under the pretext of facilitating my embarkation , I went out onto the dock , and there she was , the R.M.S. Grand Cham , a huge wedding cake of a ship , sturdy yet pleasantly worn after yeoman service on the transatlantic run . 
I paused and scratched my ear , touched by the moment ; I was going to America , safe in this titan of the deep — and what leisurely , playful , and even possibly lascivious hours lay before me ! 
I gathered up my hand baggage , which consisted of a portable typewriter and a briefcase containing a full-size X-ray photograph of my chest and a crisp mint copy of my Master 's thesis , on the Influence of Dryden on Anybody , which I had just completed . 
I came fresh from two years of research , spent among the high stone pillars and solemnly dedicated atmosphere of the British Museum . 
I am essentially a provincial lad , lost in the vast , unwieldy city of London , and the British Museum was the only place I knew . 
I used to take the small red trains of the London Underground as far as Tottenham Court Road station and emerge into the grey heady airs of Bloomsbury . 
Then I would wend my way between the bookshops , publishers ' offices , and espresso bars , taking care not to go off course into the void , until I reached the British Museum . 
I would go into the Reading Room , where solid silence was packed hard and green up as far as the bowl of the dome , and walk over , always , to desk D-4 . 
( After a few months , people knew that D-4 and Bradbury went together ; I was a member of a very exclusive club . ) 
I would settle down there amid the smell of leather bindings and leather desks and the strange aromas of unguents worn by Middle European e2migre2s , who notoriously used to repair to the British Museum to write seditious pamphlets . 
Sometimes I would go down into the basement lavatory , where small men could be seen from time to time washing their hats . 
Such eccentricities were commonplace in this high world of scholarship which I now frequented , and my urbanity grew daily . 
So this , then , was living . 
At eleven , I would go out for coffee ; at twelve-thirty for lunch ; and at three-fifteen for tea . 
In these interstices , I conducted a love affair with a large , flamboyant , and rather rich girl from Sheffield , who was also writing a thesis . 
I never saw her save during the daytime , and our relationship was conducted largely by correspondence within the museum . 
Notes would arrive saying " I 'm mad at you . 
You said you 'd have lunch with me yesterday . " 
Notes would leave saying " Sorry , my tutor came . 
[ My tutor would often pop in , and we would retire to a nearby teashop , eat buns , and discuss my thesis , at the same time feeding crumbs to the mice that kept appearing out of the wainscoting . ] 
But how about today ? 
I 'm your friend . " 
When I accepted a fellowship in America , the notes came thick and fast ; she was very mad at me . 
I had that day taken my thesis to a little bookbinder up Gower Street , who had hit the edges with a hammer and put a binding on it , I felt very proud . 
So I took her out to dinner in Soho , then to a theatre , and finally I took her home on the Underground . 
We sat on a bench in some gardens near the river . 
A sign saying " HOVIS " kept flashing at us from across the river , but we did n't look at it . 
The seat was wet , and ants kept taking things back and forth along it , but we did n't mind . 
At last , I ushered her to her door and promised never to forget her . 
Now I was off to America to face a more rigorous re2gime . 
I was going to the Middle West to teach a course on gross illiteracies to freshmen . 
The gross illiteracies did n't sound very interesting . 
They included such deviations as the Unjustifiable Dangling Modifier ( " If thoroughly stewed , the patients will enjoy our prunes " ) and the Fused Sentence ( " His bus was late he missed his train " ) . 
I realised that I was now finished with the cosmopolitan gentlemanly days of English research ; no more men washing their hats in the lavatory , no more eccentrics talking on economic theory to the stone lions in front of the British Museum . 
Now , if I wanted to do research work , I had to take courses and acquire credits for a degree . 
But first , I told myself , forget scholarship and the academic life for a while : revel in the joys of a cruise . 
Flunkies ushered me aboard the Grand Cham , and eventually I found my cabin . 
It was a tiny cabin , no bigger than a good-sized coffin , and it contained four berths , a communal set of drawers , and a hand basin about the size of the bowl of my pipe . 
My three cabin mates had arrived already ; they were long-faced , dark-haired English youths who looked exactly like me . 
One of them pointed out to me a package from Interflora . 
It was white heather from the British Museum girl , and the card said , " I 'M YOUR FRIEND " . 
I then began to unpack my briefcase . 
I lifted out the X-ray photograph and the thesis , and carried them to a convenient shelf . 
Then I noticed a curious thing . 
Already on the shelf , there lay three X-ray photographs and three fat Master 's theses . 
I looked at my cabin mates inquiringly . 
They nodded . 
We were all on the same errand . 
Bursting with bonhomie , we sat at the same table at dinner and talked about Dryden and George Eliot and the criticism of F. R. Leavis . 
Suddenly , in a pause in our conversation , we observed something strange . 
The people at the next table were also talking about Dryden and George Eliot and the criticism of F. R. Leavis . 
So were the people at the table beyond that . 
Soon everyone was turning round to look at everyone else , and it quickly became evident that the vessel was largely given over to American intellectuals returning from a year 's stint in Rome or Paris or London and English intellectuals going for a year 's stint to the Folger or to Stanford or to the palaces of cultivation in the Middle West . 
There were English-Speaking Union Fellows , Commonwealth Fund Fellows , Henry Fellows , and Jane Eliza Procter Visiting Fellows . 
There were Guggenheims and Rockefellers , Fords and Gulbenkians . 
" My goodness , " remarked someone , "what a blow for the human intelligence if this ship should sink . " 
It was a sobering thought . 
Perhaps , someone else suggested , we should have been shared out among several vessels , so that some of us , at least , should survive . 
As one of my cabin mates remarked , the incidence of scholars was more than random ; it was statistically significant . 
" You know , " he said , " the historians of race migration have missed this . 
There 's a thesis in it . " 
I hastened to assure him that with a passenger list of this sort no potential subject for a thesis would be likely to go begging . 
" Oh , good ! " said my companion . 
" I 'm relieved . 
Because it is n't really my field . " 
Already I was beginning to suspect that the passenger list of the vessel was not my field either , and during the next day or two I could not help but feel that the atmosphere was growing claustrophobic . 
There were a few passengers without even their Master 's degrees , going to visit relatives or get married in the States , or returning from a tour of Europe . 
You saw them occasionally , walking about defiantly carrying copies of novels by Nevil Shute , and I , for one , never let them go by without sparing them a few kindly words . 
By and large , though , the passengers gathered in groups on the boat deck each day in informal seminars , keeping alive the tradition of academic debate during this tough , fallow spell while they were cut off from a university and out under the open sky . 
One evening , my roommates and I were sitting in our cabin deluging our nostrils with heather pollen when there came a tap at the door and a young American scholar we had already met ( he was a Swinburne man ) entered . 
" Hi , " he said . 
We said " Hi " back at him , and he explained that a meeting had been held and it had been decided to formalise the discussions on the boat deck by holding daily seminars devoted to comparisons of American and European life and thought , which would keep our minds from rusting and at the same time serve as an orientation programme for those unfamiliar with various lands . 
People would contribute papers , and discussion would be encouraged . 
" You know , this is the greatest opportunity we 'll ever have , " he said . 
" We ca n't let an opportunity like this go by . " 
There was , he had to admit , one painful drawback . 
" We are n't authorised to award credits toward any degree , but we do n't think this should stand in our way , and we hope it wo n't deter you from coming . " 
We congratulated him on being so infected with the joy of pure scholarship . 
He thanked us and adjured us to be present at ten-thirty the next morning . 
For some strange reason , possibly a decline in my metabolism , I could n't quite relish the prospect . 
I went to the meeting the next day , however , and an eminent professor from Emmanuel College , Cambridge , gave a paper on the cheapest way to buy potatoes in England , and then there was a discussion about how to get off a turnpike in the States . 
It was good , searching stuff , well presented and well delivered , and showing the stamp of original minds , yet somehow I did n't seem up to it , and when the Swinburne man , who was in general charge , assigned us Moby Dick , to be read before the next class , I felt I 'd almost rather take an Incomplete in the course . 
Fortunately for me , my fears of being bested in a debate on Melville were relieved by a chance encounter , at the dance that evening , with an elegantly proportioned American nurse , tanned as brown as a berry by a two-month tour of Italy . 
I had no business being at the dance at all , with so much reading to do , but I thought perhaps he would n't call on me in the quiz . 
Looking on this unqualified specimen of American womanhood , charming even without her M.A. , I found myself spiritually closer to her than I did to many a scholar . 
I was , in short , tempted into silken dalliance . 
The desire for knowledge , the desire to learn all there was to know about the Weltanschauung of the female in America , egged me on . 
I began my course of study the next day . 
I was , as I have said , a modest and provincial English youth , but my companion seemed inclined to thaw me . 
" You 're so polite , " she said . 
" It 's cute , but you wo n't snow an American girl that way . " 
She was telling me , in the late afternoon , how to snow an American girl , when the Swinburne man appeared . 
" Say , " he said , " we missed you today . " 
I apologised for my absence . 
" We had a great class on how to use an Automat , " he said . 
" Then one of the guys in your cabin talked about how to get shillings to put into English gas meters . 
It was very interesting . " 
" I 'm sure , " I said . 
" I 'm sorry I missed it . " 
Next morning , the Swinburne man was at our cabin early , looking for me . 
I told him that I should most surely have joined the group that day were I not working on a project of my own . 
He left , a trifle dejected , and my project came along shortly afterward from her cabin , where she had been putting on a swimsuit , and we went to the pool . 
The Stile 
The mirror had a bevelled edge , so that by tilting it carefully he could cut his eye in half quite painlessly . 
Now he had three eyes and a harelip . 
He squared the mirror , made a cruel gesture with his mouth , then put his hand down the front of his trousers to see if he had more hair than Falkirk yet . 
Suddenly he noticed some flecks of scurf that must have fallen on the mirror when he was combing his parting . 
He began to worry about that instead . 
The waiting was intolerable . 
And yet he knew it should n't be . 
The bed was a secure island where he was immune from time . 
That was why before going back to school , or before going to the dance as now , he would set aside a whole hour for lying on his bed . 
It was a rational device for delaying fear . 
When he panicked , and he had been panicking for more than a week , he could say to himself , " There is still the hour . 
There is no excuse for worrying before the hour . " 
The strategem never worked , but he still enforced it rigidly because the hour was the time for thinking . 
Now he felt silly lying on the bed in his blue suit and his ridiculous patent-leather shoes with silver buckles . 
He strained his ears to hear his mother backing the car out of the garage ; all the time his breathing coming faster . 
The other thought came back . 
He bit his lip and cut his eye in half again with the mirror . 
He rather wished the down would disappear altogether . 
Last term had been bad enough . 
Their voices were still in his ears like trapped bees . 
" Morton has a forest ! " 
" With a waterfall in it ! " 
" Morton ! 
Morton ! 
Morton ! " 
" Look at the Jelly Roll ! " 
"I 'm precocious , " he said carefully , and aloud to the ceiling , turning away wearily from the sound of their voices . 
He wondered dazedly whether the term after next at his new school everyone would have hairy Dings and it would n't matter so much . 
What if his trousers fell off tonight and all the girls at the dance started shouting ... 
He reversed the mirror quickly , and as an additional safeguard closed his eyes , so that he was n't . 
But it was not an easy thing to pretend : in no time at all he was again . 
Then what about the doctor at last term 's medical inspection ? 
He was still wondering about that . 
" Stand up straight much ? " the doctor asked , and he began tapping his teeth with the tongue-depressor he had in his hand . 
Peter drew himself to attention and said , "Sir ? " 
They had to call him that ; it was good manners . 
" Play about a bit ? " the doctor said . 
He seemed absent-mindedly to be cleaning his teeth with the tongue depressor now ; then he stopped that and looked at his fingernails . 
" Football practice . " 
Peter shrugged . 
" And camp-fires in the woods mostly . " 
Then he left the room for the next boy , wondering why the matron who was usually helping the doctor had disappeared . 
They were backing out the car . 
He panicked . 
Leaping off the bed he scrabbled through his drawers . 
He must have something in his pocket to show people . 
To talk about . 
He grabbed his bullet . 
Then he saw his hairbrush . 
At school boys hit their chests with hairbrushes to look like measles . 
His hand hovered over the brush . 
His father would see through it though . 
It might start him on one of those speeches about , " When I was a shy lad , Peter-son . " 
Then his mother would say , " You 're a very pretty little boy , darling , people love you . 
Be brave , lamb . " 
He shuddered , feeling weaker than ever , and made a tough , twisted face into the mirror . 
He felt its contours carefully , and determined to keep it there all evening . 
No ; he could n't because he loved Rosemary . 
Suddenly he knew he had been thinking about the Ding and the scurf in his hair so as not to have to think of her . 
His legs might melt away if he thought about her now . 
They could n't make him go to the dance though if he suddenly had to walk on his knuckles like the pavement artist outside the National Gallery . 
He thought about Rosemary , but her picture would n't come into his mind . 
He watched his legs in their sharp trousers , but they only shook like the cotton sails of a Firefly when the wind veered . 
In the car he said nothing . 
His mother was going on to one of her dotty parties , so she was practicing dotty remarks on him . 
She was practicing smoking cigarettes too , because she only smoked them at parties . 
He had to be casual ; even bored about the dance . 
If his mother knew about Rosemary he would probably have to wear a paper bag over his head for the rest of his life ; if he did n't fall through the floor of the car first and get crushed . 
He thought about that sort of death for a moment or two . 
His fingers moved from pocket to pocket of the stiff new suit until they found the live bullet . 
If he held it against his head and prayed , or scratched the tiny soft pimple of lead , it might go off . 
" Peter is dead , " his mother would have to say . 
" If there are spare sausages and things I expect Rosemary will like them cold for lunch tomorrow . " 
He thought about Rosemary 's house . 
It did n't seem to have a real existence in a real place like his flannel in the bathroom , or his bicycle in the shed . 
He wondered how his mother would find it . 
Anyway , she did n't seem to be able to keep a car going in a straight line for very long , as other cars he 'd been in managed to do . 
He lurched against the car door , but the bullet did n't go off . 
" Tipsy taxi , " his mother called happily . 
Peter was thrown forward . 
If he was n't being pushed about by people he was being bounced around inside cars like a rag doll . 
Everyone else had the power . 
He began to feel limp , exhausted , calmer ; almost to enjoy alternately having his head banged against the windscreen , and his neck dislocated on the back of the seat . 
He was a punch-drunk boxer sticking it out . 
No ; a Christian being thrown to the lions . 
He tried to feel himself dancing with Rosemary . 
Or rather to feel himself stumbling clumsily after her as she led him with movements light as an angel . 
The lurching of the car had dazed his brain . 
Perhaps this year , dancing with her , he would get that strange feeling he got that time when he crashed down on the tiny drip Hunter in the rugger match and somehow just had n't wanted to get up again , or let go of him , though the whistle was blowing furiously . 
Peter jerked suddenly upright in the car with his face on fire and his hands shaking . 
The shock of the idea raised a lump in his throat like a mole-hill thrown up in an instant of time . 
There did seem to be something alive and scratching there too . 
He was in love with Rosemary . 
It would be dirty to think of hugging her , whilst a kiss ... 
He wanted to go to the lavatory , and laid his hand on his mother 's arm . 
She was wrestling with the steering-wheel like Tarzan with the Wolf Girl and did n't notice . 
He forgot all about the lavatory , and instead decided that if there would be any time in his whole life when he could convert a try from the twenty-five yard line it was this very second . 
Of course it would be with the Baby Game rugger ball , not one of the full size ones . 
He was beginning to hear the music of the first Paul Jones in his head now . 
He knew it would leave him facing Rosemary , but that he would immediately seize one of the forty fat ugly girls who stood each side of her . 
Probably he would start to sulk in the middle of the dance and have to pretend to be very interested in the pattern of the wallpaper . 
Perhaps they would think he was an artist . 
The whole thing might be bearable if her mother did n't sit there all the time on the sofa like a queen with silver hair . 
She watched him too . 
And her father could be just like his and say things like , " Your playing fields flood last term ? 
My youngest lad 's did , you know . 
Now do pull yourself together and dance with the girls . 
Come along ! 
Want a spot of whisky ? 
Ho ! 
Ho ! 
Ho ! " 
Peter found that he was out of the car with unfamiliar gravel under his feet . 
His mother was n't kissing him . 
There was light in a great glass house ; shadows moving with music and laughter . 
Now a brighter rectangle of light appeared in the centre of the confusion and he was stumbling towards the open door . 
Rosemary 's mother was holding out her long hand like the branch of a willow tree over the river . 
Her hair could n't really be thunder-sky blue . 
Peter took the drooping hand , and looked at her just long enough to be polite , and to see if she was really like she always seemed to be in his dream . 
She said something , and then somehow willed him in to the dance room . 
Music and movement was all around him , bumping against the walls . 
He was snatched in to a revolving chain of boys ; not , though , before he had had time to notice that they all had real dinner jackets . 
The music stopped . 
In the inner circle of girls Rosemary was facing him exactly . 
She smiled . 
So he did . 
Then he shifted his feet and looked at the floor . 
Now he was doing it ; taking one of the fat ugly girls on her left . 
He thought he saw Rosemary lift her chin in a funny way . 
But he knew she must like one of the boys on his either side better than him . 
He could n't just take her like that straight away . 
" How old are you ? " the fat girl asked . 
" Thirteen , " said Peter . 
" You must be one of Rosemary 's friends not Jane 's then . " 
The girl was looking at his suit now . 
" I have a little sister who crashes my parties and asks kids of her own age , " she added . 
" How old are you ? " 
Peter asked stiffly . 
The fat girl stared at him ; pulling him around the floor as if he were a sack of something . 
" You do n't ask a girl things like that . " 
Peter was exasperated . 
" Well how do you know how old they are ? " 
"That is just the point , " the girl said carefully . 
" It is n't intended that the male should know . " 
Then she let go of Peter promptly , though the music had n't stopped . 
The music began again , and he was dragged into the revolving circle of " males " inside which the smaller circle of girls was spinning in the opposite direction . 
This time Rosemary was nowhere to be seen and an ugly thin girl grabbed him with more haste than was really polite . 
Peter determined to get in first . 
" Where do you go to school ? " he asked , pretending to be interested and sort of intense the way his mother was at her dotty parties . 
The ugly thin girl told him . 
" Why 's it called a ladies ' college ? " he said . 
This time he actually was intrigued . 
" Are you very — are you grown up , I mean . 
At Cheltenham university ? " 
The girl just giggled and pressed him nearer to her breasts . 
Peter swallowed twice very quickly . 
Then the music stopped again and he began to think there was something unsatisfactory about a succession of brief relationships that were imposed and dissolved wholly at the discretion of a loud gramophone record . 
He caught a glimpse of Rosemary and at once fell into a trance . 
It occurred to him that now he had seen her the vision might be made to last another year , and so there was no reason why he should stay at the dance any longer . 
Finally Julian re-crossed his legs , and concentrated on the news . 
When Janet brought in tea he said : 
" Tell her we 've got too many people coming , then . 
It wo n't deceive her , but it will please you . " 
"No , " said Janet , tired , " I shall ask her . 
You 'd make us miserable if I did n't . 
I shall ask her . 
Have you taken your pill , by the way ? " 
He smiled and felt hastily in his waistcoat pocket , apologetic with victory . 
Janet drank her tea and compressed her lips , warming her legs at the large coal fire . 
They were assembled in the hall that was large enough to be a room , drinking sherry before dinner , on Christmas Eve . 
Julian 's mother , small and stout , in a lavender woolly and lavender skirt , smiled at each member of the family as they came up to talk . 
She alone sat down , a dignity due to age . 
Janet 's widowed sister , Doris , trotted in and out with more glasses : a robust , sensible woman , similar to Janet in appearance . 
The elder grandchildren drank self-consciously . 
Julian 's brother , Paul , leaned on the back of old Mrs. Harford 's chair , and avoided his wife , May . 
He had been drinking too much again . 
Julian wondered why , and was too afraid to find out . 
The youngest children were in bed , ready to wake at 3 a.m. and open their presents . 
Someone had given John a drum , blast them . 
And Celia had telephoned in the afternoon , breathlessly , saying that the car had broken down and she was bringing a friend — was that all right ? " 
"I 'm not putting them in the same room , " whispered Janet furiously . 
" I wo n't countenance cheap affairs at Christmas , with a house full of impressionable young people ! " 
"It might be a girl-friend , " said Julian rationally , untruthfully . 
Janet gave a swift , sharp snort and flounced past him . 
Julian 's eldest daughter , the one person he loved as much as Celia , was coming downstairs . 
She was happy to be home for Christmas , and this time with her first baby to steal attention . 
Julian patted her as she walked past . 
" Everything all right , Sue ? " 
She nodded and smiled . 
He hoped her husband , a nice enough young chap , was good to her . 
She seemed to like him , anyway . 
They were usually squeezing each other 's hands and sidling together . 
Perhaps it would work out , but time made a difference . 
Celia and that Forster fellow had been wild about each other . 
Julian put up the money for their elopement and never told anyone : it rankled with him . 
" I do n't think we should keep the dinner back much longer , do you ? " said Janet , on a rising tone . 
" No , dear . 
Of course not , " said Doris , who agreed with her . 
" Celia wo n't mind , I 'm sure , " said Julian , nervous for her reception . 
Paul smiled into his sherry as though it were having a private joke . 
Old Mrs. Harford began stiffly to rise , helped by her sons . 
Julian 's head ached as he lead his mother into the dining-room . 
All these people , he thought , and I do n't care much for any of them . 
What a stupid , expensive hypocrisy , family Christmas . 
If Sue was n't here , if Celia was n't coming — nothing in it for me . 
Nothing in it at all . 
He looked down the double row of family faces , eating , drinking , talking , and wondered whether they felt the same . 
And he counted the people he had really loved , in his life : the ones he would die for , gladly . 
There did n't seem to be very many . 
It was a bit of a waste , spending your life with people you did n't want . 
Why not collect round you the odd few you loved , and spend it with them instead ? 
A commotion in the hall . 
Julian 's heart beat rapidly and he bent over his soup and pretended not to notice . 
" That will be Celia , " said Janet , and scraped her chair back , her napkin clutched in her large capable hand . 
A flutter passed visibly round the table . 
Celia was a disturbance , pleasant or unpleasant according to taste . 
The door was flung open and Julian felt her presence a few feet behind him . 
Her light , quick voice pattered out a vague and charming list of woes . 
" Hallo , hallo , " said Julian , pushing back his chair . 
" Merry Christmas , C. " 
He got up and took both her hands in his , kissed her cold cheek . 
Her voice bubbled past his ear as she answered and kissed him , but he could not have told what she said . 
Janet and Doris were looking stuffy and mottled in their tight best dresses . 
" Everybody 's so smart ! " wailed Celia , throwing her fur coat on a side table . 
It fell , with a silky thud , on the carpet . 
Someone picked it up . 
" I just came as I was , " said Celia , and had contrived to make the others feel over-dressed , " in my old sweater and skirt . 
But I 've brought you lovely , lovely presents . 
Let me show you — " 
" After dinner , " said Janet briskly . 
" Do come and sit down , Celia . 
And what have you done with your friend ? " 
"Oh my God ! " said Celia , " I forgot . 
Yoo-hoo . 
Mark , sweetie . 
Come and meet my lovely family . " 
She was determined in her gaiety , in her clinging to a style of prettiness which had suited her when she was young . 
" Come on ! " she called , nervous and laughing . 
" He 's shy . 
Poor Mark . " 
Perhaps he sensed that he was { 6de trop before he came in because his entrance was both dignified and defiant . 
A universal gasp among the family . 
Celia had done it again . 
Lean , tall and personable though Mark was — he was an African . 
" What a terrible thing , " whispered Doris , " and mother the age she is , too . " 
"At Christmas , " said Janet . 
Celia held Mark 's hand and smiled into his face . 
She had the ability to concentrate herself on one person at one time and it took some of the uncertainty from his expression . 
" They 're awfully glad you 've come , " said Celia to him , as though the room were empty . 
" He plays the trumpet , professionally , " she said , turning to them . 
" I made him bring it . 
After dinner he 'll play the blues . 
Markie , " she said , touching her throat with a gesture that tore Julian , " just gets me when he plays the trumpet . " 
Still the family had not come up to scratch . 
Her wide-spaced blue eyes garnered and sorted the message . 
Her smile wavered . 
" We 're awfully hungry , " she said , " awfully hungry , Julian . " 
"Delighted , " said Julian , jerked by her appeal into shaking Mark 's hand . 
" Do sit down , both of you . 
You must certainly play for us , if you will , Mr. er — " 
" Just call him " Mark " , " said Celia . 
" Second names are so unfriendly , and his is unpronounceable . 
How is everybody ? 
Darling Mummy , always so sweet . 
Doris . 
Janet . 
May . 
Sue , have you brought little poppet ? 
I must see him . 
Do you adore him frantically ? — lucky you . 
And dear Paul — oh , Paul . " 
"Yes , " said Paul , " I 'm drinking too much , C. " 
" But why ? " 
Julian wished he could have asked this , but he listened . 
" Because , " said Paul , " a family is like a bloody great pillow on your face . 
Suffocation . 
And I drink to forget that terrible fact . " 
"Oh , Paul ! " everyone said , laughing to cover up the truth . 
" I 'm surrounded , " said Paul , " by people I wish well . 
I do wish you well . 
And I wish you well away . 
You 're all lovely . 
Good , clean-living , strong-minded , short-sighted salts of the earth . 
There is no spot in you . 
But for Christ 's sake why ca n't you be salty without me ? 
Why do n't you let me alone ? " 
"We 'll have a long talk afterwards , Paulie , " said Celia , touching the back of his hand . 
" Eat your dinner , darling . " 
Comforted , keeping himself fastidiously from contact with his wife or his wife 's chair , he began to cut his meat into smaller and smaller pieces . 
Julian formed a picture of Celia by frequent glances . 
She must be touching up her hair , it never used to be quite that auburn shade , more of a russet . 
She had noticeable lines round eyes and mouth and her neck was hollowed . 
In repose her face showed her age , but Celia was rarely still . 
She was dressed in some pretty , fuzzy material : dark , soft blue and no jewellery . 
" You 're looking well , C. , " said Julian , and cleared his throat . 
A cross-current of conversation prevented her reply . 
" But I always put my babies on pots right away , " said old Mrs. Harford , reprovingly . 
" But it 's such a waste of time , the book says ... " 
" ... and it saved nappies and got them into good habits . " 
"Put a pillow on his face and get him out of it , " said Paul to himself , " it 's kinder in the long run ... " 
"I know you do n't like sprouts , " said Doris , flustered , "but you 've no need to make such a fuss . 
One would think you were seven , instead of seventeen . " 
"More gravy , Mother ? " said Janet . 
" Staying in England long , Mr. er — Mark ? " asked Julian courteously . 
" I do n't quite know , sir , " said Mark . 
His deep voice jolted the family , and two rows of heads ducked to their plates , silenced . 
" He 's staying at my flat just now , " said Celia , and they all started to talk at once . 
Julian , exchanging glances with Paul , caught a curious look in Celia 's eyes , of irony and sadness . 
" I hate family Christmas , " said Paul , loudly . 
She leaned forward , at once aware of him : a child to be comforted . 
" Never mind , sweetie . 
Never mind . " 
And Mark could play . 
Licking his purplish lips , first , then raising the trumpet as though it were a taste of wine : setting his mouth to it as though it were a girl to be kissed . 
His long back and legs , his narrow hips , arched into one effortless curve : an attitude for the trumpet . 
And he played . 
The younger ones and Celia urged him on . 
He drank water , rested , smiled , and played again . 
His music ran in their ears , darker than his skin , sweeter than honey . 
They sat on the stairs , listening . 
Old Mrs. Harford fell asleep . 
Paul , stupified , shut his eyes . 
Julian stood , a little awkwardly , against the newel post , and applauded loudly . 
He had little knowledge of music but he wanted Celia to feel that he approved of her friend . 
She squeezed his arm and smiled , translating him . 
Doris and Janet disappeared , alienated , to discuss to-morrow 's Christmas lunch , and Celia 's latest gaffe . 
Sue thought her baby was crying , though no one else noticed . 
She hurried up the stairs : in the earliest stage of loving him . 
She would have carried him about with her all the time if it were socially permissible . 
" Now , sir , " said Mark to Julian , in his dark , slow voice , " what can I play for you ? " 
He implied compliment and Julian was flustered , afraid of failing him . 
Celia leaned forward , her hair swinging past her brother 's bulky waistcoat . 
" Play " Savoy Blues " , Markie , darling . 
Jule does n't know the name but he knows the tune . " 
Mark began to make melancholy love with the trumpet and Julian was stricken as by Celia 's pathos at dinner . 
His eyes sharpened for an instant with tears which he was concerned to hide . 
What 's wrong with me , this Christmas ? he wondered , finding no answer . 
Only it seemed to him that he was suddenly middle-aged and had never possessed what he truly desired . 
Composed , he turned to smile at Celia and found his mood reflected in her face . 
He concentrated again on Mark , and clapped louder than anyone else when it was over . 
" Again , sir ? " said Mark , absorbed , respectful . 
He had noticed something . 
Dignified beggar . 
" No , no , thank you . 
I enjoyed it , though . 
Tremendously . 
Old favourite of mine . 
Thank you very much . " 
Mark bowed and stood silent . 
" I think we 'll have some family carols now , " said Janet in a high , bright voice , " and Mama must go to bed . 
Come along , darling . 
Where 's Sue got to ? 
That baby of hers will be ruined . 
She picks him up every time he cries . " 
As Janet passed Julian she stared through him ; her powdery skin flushed on the cheekbones ; her best court shoes uncomfortable and smart . 
She trod on Celia 's fuzzy skirt as she sat , rapt , at the foot of the stairs . 
" Sorry , Celia , " said Janet heartily , " but we 're getting Mama to bed . " 
Christopher Hollis The Wind of Change 
THE FIRST white settlers came to the Highlands in 1904 and therefore an old man like Kungo could remember a time before there was a white man in the land . 
He had seen the Serkali , as the Kikuyus called the British Government , come , and if he could only manage to live a few years longer , there seemed every likelihood that he would see them go . 
The whole business was turning out to be that of but one long lifetime . 
Kungo sat outside his thingira — his bachelor 's hut — and watched the hot equatorial sun going down the sky . 
He had called to his senior wife to bring him some beer . 
She made her beer out of sugar-cane and he preferred her brew to that of any of his other wives . 
She brought him a calabash and he sat drinking it , and as he drank , he meditated . 
The memories of a life came back to him . 
The first white men to come to Nanyuki were the missionaries , and the first of them whom Kungo ever met was Father McCarthy . 
That was a very long time ago — more , far more , than a hundred seasons — for Kungo always reckoned his time by the seasons of six months , since the rains and the crops come every six months . 
He did not reckon in years as the white men so absurdly do . 
Kungo remembered Father McCarthy well — a tall , white old man with piercing eyes . 
He was a good man and a kind man , and he and his fellow priests had taught Kungo and the other tribesmen some lessons which they had been glad to learn . 
They had shown them how they could plant their crops and tend them so that the yield would be increased . 
They had cast a spell on the tsetse fly so that it did not eat their herds and they could now drive their herds into districts where herds had never been able to go before . 
They had shown them how to build up their land on the hillsides in terraces , so that the rain no longer washed all their soil away . 
All these were good lessons . 
Once when his first wife was ill , Father McCarthy had taken her to Nyeri to a bad-smelling house called a hospital , where a white witch-doctor had cut her open with a panga and snatched out from her stomach the devil by which she was bewitched within . 
He had then sown her up with a needle , and , after a time she had come back to him cured and able to bear more children . 
This , too , was a good thing to have done , and seemed to show that the white witch-doctors — their mundumugu — had more powerful spells than had the mundumugu of the Kikuyu . 
If so , it must be that their God was more powerful than the Kikuyu 's Ngai , and indeed Kungo had for a time accepted the God of Father McCarthy — had become a servant of the Bwana Jesus — and had defied the old law of Ngai . 
It had seemed to him clear when his wife came back from the hospital that it was the Christian God who now sat on Kerinyaga in place of Ngai . 
But in his old age he did not feel so sure . 
A hyena had left its droppings near his thingira . 
He looked at them with disgust and with terror . 
Father McCarthy , he well knew , would have said that a hyena 's droppings were a hyena 's droppings and nothing more . 
But all the Kikuyu believe that there is a thahu — a curse — in a hyena 's droppings . 
Would it not be as well to go to the mundumugu , to kill a goat and get purification from the thahu ? 
He did not say that the Bwana Jesus was not powerful for evil , as Father McCarthy had taught . 
But was that any reason why Ngai should not be powerful , too ? 
Might it not be that there were many gods , all of whom had their power for evil ? and was it not sensible prudence to avoid offending any of the gods ? 
Besides , though Father McCarthy was a good and kind man and taught lessons which they did well to learn , he also said things which it was less easy to believe and which Kungo had never been able to find sensible . 
When Father McCarthy came , Kungo was still a young man . 
He had just bought his second wife . 
Father McCarthy told him that he should not have more than one wife . 
" What then should he do with the second wife ? " he asked . 
Should he just turn her out to starve ? 
If he sent her back to her parents , they would certainly not return the bride-price with which he had bought her . 
Oh , no , said Father McCarthy , he should keep her , but he should not use her as a wife . 
This was plain madness . 
IT HAD seemed to him plain madness , but at least he had imagined that , mad or not , it was the custom of the white man . 
Father McCarthy and the other priests with him had a special thahu , placed upon them by the Bwana Jesus , which forbade them to lie with women at all , but he soon learnt that this thahu did not fall upon all white men — that some white men did lie with women — and indeed when , shortly afterwards , a white man , Bwana Dillon , came and built a shamba and set up a farm amongst them , he brought a memsaab with him and for a time he lived with her . 
Among the white men , Kungo was told , a man has one single wife . 
It seemed a strange custom and it was hard to see for what purpose a man would trouble to make himself rich , if he could not buy more women with his riches . 
Nevertheless , if that was the white man 's custom , he had said , so be it . 
Kungo was not greatly concerned to understand . 
Then after a time Bwana Dillon 's memsaab went away . 
They said that she had left him and had gone over the sea to a country called England . 
For a time Bwana Dillon lived , it seemed , alone . 
Then one day , he too went away , and when he came back he brought with him another memsaab . 
He had , so Kungo was told , been what was called divorced and had married a new wife . 
Indeed after a time he divorced that wife too , and married a third . 
Father McCarthy had left by then , so Kungo was not able to consult him to find if he had understood it rightly , but it appeared that among the white men it was possible for a man to have as many wives as he liked , provided that he only had one at a time . 
This surely , Kungo thought , was not a sensible arrangement . 
It was much better for a man to have all his wives at the same time , as then the wives could share out among themselves both the burden of the work and the burden of child-bearing . 
The white man 's arrangement did not seem to him to be fair on the women . 
It is right that women should control their desires . 
For that reason , said Kungo , do we circumcise them , and , if one of my wives runs away to lie with another man , then , as is the custom , I bind a hot stone beneath her knee-caps to cripple her tendons , so that she can never run again . 
This is obviously common sense . 
But how can one expect a woman to control her desires if she is the only woman who can serve her man ? 
Kungo of course had , like all Kikuyu , ever since his boyhood , lain with any girls wherever opportunity offered . 
Since Ngai had given him his desires it was but natural and right to satisfy them . 
He had always been careful in obeying the custom of the tribe . 
He knew well that it was wrong to impregnate an unmarried girl , for to do so would reduce her bride-price and would thus be an injustice to her parents . 
Therefore he had never sought to lift the second apron which all unmarried girls wear in copulation to guard themselves against being impregnated . 
But to lie with a girl could not be wrong . 
Indeed , if there were no fornication , how could the girls tell which men they liked and which they disliked ? 
Yet Father McCarthy told him that fornication , too , was wrong — that it was wrong to lie with any woman unless a man was married to her . 
This also he found strange and once again , when he came to know other bwanas — bwanas who had not , like Father McCarthy , fallen under the thahu which forbade them to lie with women — he found that this custom was by no means a general custom of the white man . 
Bwana Dillon had after a few years got tired of farming . 
So he started instead what he called a Country Club for the rich bwanas and for bwanas who came from over the sea , where they could go and get drunk when they got tired of looking at the wild animals . 
Bwana Dillon hired Kungo to come and work in that Club , and it was thus that Kungo came to learn something of the ways of the white man . 
He had seen how in their dances the white men and women held one another obscenely , the arm of the man around the woman as if she was a whore , and as he brought them their drinks he would often hear the white men talking easily and casually of the women with whom they had lain . 
They did not know that he understood English and therefore talked before him without restraint , but , though he did not know all English words , he had early got to know the words which the English most commonly used — such as those for food and drink , the Government , and fornication , and motor cars — which were the subjects upon which they mainly talked . 
WHAT Kungo could not for some time understand was why , though those bwanas lay with unmarried girls and though the girls did not use a second apron , yet it did not seem often to happen that the girls had children . 
It was not until he was an old man that one day his son , who , as was the way of the world , had left the shamba and gone to work in a hotel in Nairobi , explained to him that the white women did have a second apron of a sort , which they put on when they lay with men and which guarded them against pregnancy . 
Or sometimes it was the man who brought the apron as a gift when he came to lie with the woman . 
The white woman 's second apron was , said his son , a small apron of rubber . 
He had often seen it among the luggage of the guests at the hotel and a friend had explained to him its purpose . 
Kungo had then understood why white unmarried women were not more often pregnant , but , if so , why did they object to the Kikuyu girls if they wore a second apron , which was surely in every way a more seemly and decent habit and in accordance with the custom ? 
White people , it seemed , when one looked into it , did much the same things as Africans , though in a less reasonable fashion . 
It was only that they talked differently and pretended to act differently . 
It was natural that a man should wish to beget as many children as possible , and the more wives he had , the more children could he beget and with the less inconvenience . 
A rich man — it was only reasonable — would buy as many women and as fat and with as broad pelvises as he could afford . 
Besides , since it was forbidden for a man to lie with his wife for twenty-four months after she had born him a child , for fear that her milk would fall on him and cause a thahu , or when a cow was about to calve , it was necessary that he should have more than one wife .