The Book And The Brotherhood

inclination of' his head, held open for her.

Jean went with her to the front door. 'Thank you for coming, child, come again. We'll fix that other matter up somehow.' Tamar was still putting on her coat. The door closed promptly behind her.

Jean went back to the room where Crimond was sitting on the divan. He said, 'That girl was wearing the scarf of my college.’

‘I suppose it's Gerard's,' said Jean, looking warily at Crimond. Sometimes she was afraid of him.

‘Or your husband's. Did he send her?'

'No, of course not! It was her own idea.'

'I don't believe that. Or did you arrange it? You didn't say she was coming.'

'I didn't know! She rang up after you'd gone, she said she was nearby and could she call.'

‘You were upset that I'd come back early.'

'No -'

'If I hadn't seen her would you have told me she'd been with you?’

'Well -'

'Tell me the truth, Jean.'

'Yes, I'd have told you. But I knew you'd hate it and imagine it was a plot! It wasn't a plot! She's a poor harmless little girl, she's not part of their thing. Why are you so suspicious, why are you so insecure?'

'Insecure! You ask a dangerous question. You told her to me again, and there was something you'd fix up. What was it?’

‘I want to give her money so that she can stay on at Oxford.'

‘You can send her a cheque. I don't want you to see her. Your husband sent her as a little ambassador of bourgeois morality. She came as a spy. Did you take her downstairs?'

'No,'

'Did you kiss her?'

‘No.'

`Don't you usually?'

'Just in a social way -'

^`Why not today?'

^`Because we both felt awkward -'

^`You were embarrassed, you blushed in front of that inquisitive little person, you felt yourself in the wrong before her, that's why they sent her. She's in love with you, isn't she?’

`She had a sort of crush on me when she was seventeen -‘

`I come in and find you undressed and her undressing,'

`Don't be crazy! I wanted her to try on one of my dresses!'

`You would let her contaminate your dress with her baby milky body! Can't you understand that I find all this disgusting, repulsive?'

`Oh stop it, stop it'

`I won't have spectators. You sent Lily Boyne here to tell me about the dance. You talked to her about me. You invited that girl, you probably talked to her too.'

`I told you I didn't send Lily! And of course I didn't talk about you to Tamar! Crimond, we must believe each other. Come back to reality! I believe every word you say. I don't start imagining things! If I couldn't believe you I'd go mad – if we can't believe each other we'll both go mad.'

`If you lie to me I'll kill you.'

`I won't see Tamar again. I'll tell my father to send her a cheque. Just calm down! I can't bear it when we lose contact with each other like this, it's like dying if I lose that contact for a second. I live you, I breathe you -'

Crimond looked down at the floor, then looked up. His cold angry face that ^gleamed like metal, his deadly pain-giving face, was gone. His thin lips were parted, his mouth drooped a little, he had a tired almost wistful air. He looked at her, then looked away and breathed deeply. Jean knew it was over. She had been standing before him. Now she came and sat beside him on the divan and he put an arm round her shoulder, a quiet tired comforting arm.

`I live and breathe you,' he said. 'I believe what you say. It was unpleasant seeing that girl here. I don't like little girls.'

‘I’m glad you've come back for supper. You decided to skip the meeting?’

‘It was cancelled. I bought some necessary books. I didn't waste time.’

‘Will you marry me?' Jean sometimes asked this question. She wanted the marriage bond, Crimond did not.

‘Why are you so insecure? You don't need a guarantee.'

‘I know. But I'd like us to be married.'

‘I can’t see why. If you want a divorce go ahead.'

‘You said you didn't want me to divorce.'

‘I don’t want you to see that man.'

‘I needn't. My father's lawyer in London would do it all.'

‘Do what you like.'

‘Then, would you marry me?'

‘Jeanie, don't bother me about this!'

‘I want us to live in France.'

‘My work is here.'

‘You have all _those people you go to see in Paris. Couldn't we have a flat in Paris?'

‘No. We couldn't afford it.'

‘Perhaps when your book's finished we could travel together, all round Europe, you could give lectures, you'll be famous then – Oh I do want us to go away together, to be away together.’

‘One day we'll go away together – perhaps into death.'

‘And I wish you'd spend my money. I wish you'd let me spend our money.'

‘Don’t let's have that argument again. You've bought two pretty dresses. Falcon, falcon, don't fret, little falcon. You must work, you must study, you are wasting your mind. You must find something to do.'

‘I want to help you.'

‘You must find something of your own to do, sokolnitza. Come now, let's go downstairs.'

emi had come to Crimond When Jean had come to Crimond on the morning after the dance she had come without any clear idea except that she must be in his presence, and if possible stay there forever. A little later she proposed that she should help hⁱm in his work, co-operate with him as she had done before. Crimond replied that he needed no help, she would not understand, he would simply waste time trying to explain to her what he wanted her to do. Crimond did not type and wrote his thoughts down in longhand with a fountain pen. (He could not conceive of any other method of serious thinking.) Jean suggested that she might helpfully learn to type, or even to use a word processor. Crimond said that he used an impersonal efficient typing agency, could not have stood the sound of a typewriter in the house, and found the idea of a word processor revolting. He lectured her on how she must find some employment, chided her for not using her talents. The idea was mooted, by Jean who thought it would please Crimond, that she might do some social work; she made a few investigations and decided she would not be suited to social work, and Crimond agreed it would be a waste of her time. He was more anxious that she should use her academic skills, do a degree, take a course, study a language. Crimond himself was a good linguist a could read (though he could not speak) French, German, Italian, Spanish and Russian. He also retained his Latin and Greek and often opened books of classical poetry. Jean, wishing to be useful to him, wondered if she should learn Chinese, but it was agreed that this would be unlikely to yield dividends