'What do you mean, «nothing here»? Must you talk like a telegram?
'Nothing has happened and nothing is going to happen.
Mildred was silent for a moment. 'Have it your own way. Let us talk about a related subject. You want to get married. Or, let me make things even easier for you, and simply say I want you to get married. I want the Meechams to go on, since the Finches obviously aren't going to. I want your children, Felix. I can't be a grandmother, but I shall be a quite formidable aunt.
'Sorry, Mildred, to disappoint you again.
'Come, come, said Mildred. She drew him along coaxingly. 'What about that froggy girl, the one you met in Singapore? Come, unbend a little about her. Do that tiny thing for your aged sister: 'Marie-Laure, said Felix stiffly.
'That's right. What was her name?
'Marie-Laure Auboyer: 'Well, what about her? Where is she now, anyway?
'I'm sorry to keep saying the same things, but there's nothing there either. She's in Delhi, I think.
'Delhi! cried Mildred. 'And you want to persuade me there's nothing I With you going so conveniently to look after those Gurkhas I Not that I want you to marry a frog, but she sounded quite a nice girl, and at least she's a girl.
They reached the seat under the cedar tree and sat down. The thrush was silent. The garden, dissolved in granular points of colour by the intense evening light, seemed to quiver quietly before them.
'I'm not going to Delhi, as it happens, said Felix. He crossed his legs and thrust his hands into his pockets and looked away towards the bridge. 'I'm going to take a job in England.
'Felix! cried Mildred. You might have told me! I'd quite counted on our going to India together. You are a pig.
'Sorry, Mildred — it's only just been decided. Well, it's not entirely fixed yet, but more or less.
'You mean you've only just decided it. What is it to be? Guarding Buck House?
'No, I've done my stint. It's a thing in the War Office, in the Military Secretary's department, actually, dealing with postings and pro., motions and decorations. All that. Very dull.
'At least they'll promote you, dear boy, you'll be a brigadier?
'Yes.
'But without a brigade?
'Quite. It was a sore point.
'Ah well, said Mildred, 'I always thought you were far too nice for the Anny. I can't think now why you ever went into it. I never advised it. Not that you haven't done frightfully well. Anyhow, you'll be in England after all. And that brings us back to Ann.
' Mildred — will you — leave off? said Felix. He cast her a frowning sidelong glance and made to rise. She detained him.
'Please, Felix, don't be cross with me because I see you think only of that. And don't try, this time round, to put me off with your «nothing here» stuff. You must make some decision about Ann. You're fretting yourself to pieces and preventing yourself from thinking about other women that you might have. And you must be worrying Ann too.
Felix was very stiff now, sitting very upright and staring ahead of him. The colours in the garden had reached their peak and were now subsiding into twilight as one by one the nebulous grains turned to blue and purple. One huge bright star trembled above the darkening chestnut grove. He said, 'You think I'm — acting improperly.
Mildred sighed. She knew from his more than usually strangulated utterance that she had his attention at last. She said carefully, 'No, certainly not. What I mean is nothing to do with giving Ann up, but with getting her. She isn't young, but she's young enough to bear you a child. She was a child herself when Steve was born. And the point is that you love her. And she loves you. And Randall has gone.
'What makes you say that? said Felix sharply. 'Which? about her loving you?
'Yes. He shifted his legs, staring ahead intently as if he were watching something.
'Well, she does, doesn't she? said Mildred. She had no idea. Felix was silent. Then he said, 'I don't know anything about what she thinks of the matter. Naturally.
'I like your «naturally»! said Mildred. 'You wouldn't be here unless you thought she — didn't positively mind. At least she knows what you feel?
Felix was silent again. He said, 'I think she — understands. He tried to compress the last word into a single grunt.
'Of course she understands, said Mildred. 'She's not a complete fool. And women always know. Forgive my being so crude, old thing, but have you ever kissed her?
'Certainly not! said Felix in a shocked tone. He added the next moment more softly. 'Yes, of course she knows. But we've never — mentioned it, you know.
‘You seem to me a proper pair of ninnies, said Mildred. 'I wish I could put some stuffing into you, Felix. Well, let me repeat my last porot. Randall has gone. Your move. Yes?
'No, said Felix. He rose now and offered his sister his Ann. 'I wish you wouldn't — fuss about this, Mildred. Randall has gone, but he'll come back. He's only staying in London. Nothing has happened, nothing whatever. And as I told you, nothing is going to happen. You may be right that I'm making a perfect ass of myself. But that's another matter. Let's go in. You must be getting cold.
'I'm not letting you go just yet, said Mildred. She remained seated and Felix stood now as if at attention before her, his tall form blotting out the evening star. Other stars had come. 'Felix, she said, 'when you say nothing has happened you mean that Randall has not blatantly, publicly, taken up with someone else, he hasn't really «gone off». But if he did — go off-then you'd speak to Ann?
'But he hasn't — gone off.
Mildred was tense. 'And if he doesn't do anything public, if he just goes on, however shabbily, keeping up appearances with Ann, you won't ever feel justified in — saying anything?
Felix breathed deeply. 'No. Shall we go in, Mildred?
'Ah, you are a fool, she murmured, taking his Ann. 'But I have confidence in Randall. Thank heavens one of you all has some courage!
Chapter Nine
'THE sons of the Prophet are hardy and bold and quite unaccustomed to FEAR! sang Penn, as he leaned out of the window of his room, looking towards the light view, over the tops of the beech trees, over the hidden escarpment of roses, towards the grey and green plain of the Marsh, with its yellow lines of reedy dykes and its slowly flapping herons. There was a scattering of sheep in the near fields, seeming like pale spherical bundles. Where the horizon came it was not yet the sea, it was not quite yet mysterious Dungeness.
The sun was shining, but in a feeble unconvinced sort of way, making a lot of pale bright light. A brisk east wind was blowing. Call this a summer! thought Penn. It would scarcely pass muster as a winter at home. This was the sort of thing he would have liked to explain, in an aggrieved way, to someone; only no one wanted to hear. His mother had said as he was leaving, 'They'll all ask you so many questions about Australia! but his father had said, 'Not they! They don't care a brass farthing about Australia! Only he had used a rather. more Australian expression than that. It looked as if his father was right. Of course he didn't really mind their lack of curiosity; but he did a little mind their assumption that he was not in as good a position to judge them as they were to judge him.
Today he was certainly feeling a little more touchy than usual; but perhaps that was simply on account of the charades: there had been charades last night at the Rectory, and he had not distinguished himself. Penn, who had never played this game before, had been amazed at the virtuosity of the others, who all dressed up so cleverly and invented the funniest things on the spur of the moment. Miranda had been especially funny, and had looked so pretty and grown-up in some of the costumes, and had dressed up so comically as a boy. The two young Swanns were very brilliant too; though they seemed to put on such airs, and to talk so extraordinary a language, that Penn could scarcely decide when they were acting and when they were not. They were back for a half-term week-end from their school, a place called Rugby which they seemed to think a lot of. They were friendly to Penn but without
