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divan or sat bolt upright on the chairs they were terribly intelligent. Their laughter ripped up ancient faiths; their gravity undermined stalwart policies. They seemed to believe in none of the creeds one had ever heard of, but they held creeds of their own with a fierce intolerance and could become very angry with each other. Monica enjoyed seeing them quarrel. She disliked them all intensely and when she saw that they took Clive lightly she hated them. ‘Hester’s amber cigarette-holder’ she had heard him called one evening by a jibing young couple who did not see her on the stairs above them. And indeed Clive moved among them all, against Mrs. Jessup’s batik curtains, a background figure. He did not look in the least oppressed———or impressed; neither did he look ironic. He talked to anyone who seemed to be neglected and passed the claret-cup and sandwiches.

It was after this party that Monica decided to leave London and live in the country. Her gifts to the young couple had depleted her resources and her London, the London shared with Clive, had ceased to exist; but to her own consciousness the withdrawal was less of a retreat than a flight. She could not risk living on near Clive. She had not the strength to go on hiding from him, at such close