‘Poor little thing, what a bore she is with her stupid Movement,’ said Mrs Lace spitefully.
‘Oh, dear, how I do disagree with you,’ said Jasper. ‘Personally I can’t imagine a more fascinating girl. If all débutantes were like that I should never be away from Pont Street during the summer months.’
‘Such awful clothes,’ said Mrs Lace angrily.
‘Are they? I really hadn’t noticed. In the face of such staggering beauty I suppose little details of that sort are likely to escape one.’
‘And all that Social Unionist nonsense.’
‘Nonsense, is it?’ cried Jasper. ‘Perhaps you are not aware, Madam, that Social Unionism is now sweeping the world as Liberalism swept the world of the eighteenth century. You call it nonsense – in spite of the fact that millions of people are joyfully resigning themselves to its sway. Pray now let us have an attack on the principles of Social Unionism delivered from a standpoint of sense.’
Mrs Lace did not take refuge in silence as a lesser woman might have done. She tossed her head and pronounced that when you find schoolgirls like Eugenia going mad about something you can be pretty sure that it is nonsense.
‘I’m afraid I don’t follow your argument. On the contrary, I believe that Eugenia belongs to a new generation which is going to make a new and better and a cleaner world for old back numbers like you and me to end our days in.’
Mrs Lace winced at this, but returned gallantly to the charge. ‘I am sure we must be very well off as we are. Why do you want to have a lot of changes in the Government of this country?’
‘My dear good Mrs Lace, you must have been keeping company with the local Conservative M.P. Captain Chadlington, I believe, has the honour of representing this part of the world (and a more congenital half-wit never breathed).’
Mrs Lace was not altogether displeased by this allegation. Captain Chadlington and his wife, Lady Brenda, constituted, in fact, a peak of social ambition which she had recently conquered.
‘Well?’ she said, ‘and then?’
‘I suppose that poor baboon has been telling you that we are very well off as we are? Very well off, indeed! I don’t ask you to look at the unemployment figures which are a commonplace. I do point to the lack of genius to be found in the land, whether political, artistic, or literary. I point with scorn to our millionaires, who, not daring to enjoy their wealth, cower in olde worlde cottages, and hope that no one will suspect them of being rich; to the city man grubbing his ill-gotten money in the hopes of achieving this dreary aim, and unable to take an interest in anything but market prices or golf; to the aristocrats who, as Eugenia truly says, prefer the comfort of a luxury flat to the hardship of living on their own land; to the petty adulteries, devoid of passion, which are indulged in by all classes, and to the cowardly pacifism which appears to be the spirit of the age. Nothing grand, nothing individual, nothing which could make anybody suppose that the English were once a fine race, brave, jolly and eccentric. So I say that we need a new spirit in the land, a new civilization, and it is to the Eugenias of this world that I look for salvation. Perhaps that new spirit is called Social Unionism, in any case let us leave no stone unturned. Our need is desperate, we must hail any movement which may relight the spark of vitality in this nation before it is too late, anything which may save us from the paralysing squalor, both mental and moral, from which we are suffering so terribly at present. Germany and Italy have been saved by National Socialism; England might be saved by Social Unionism, who can tell? Therefore I say, “Heil Hitler!” “Viva il Duce!”, and “Miss” – Miss, I’ll have another beer, please.’
7
Lady Marjorie Merrith leant back in the bath that was, so disturbingly, not built in, and covered her smooth white arms with lacy sleeves of soap.
‘You must admit that it’s tiresome of them,’ she said to Poppy who, faithful to her role of confidante, was perched on a chair beside the bath. ‘After all, I particularly said in both my notes that any communications would be forwarded by my bank, and besides, they could easily have found out where we are by now, if they had really wanted to. I do think they might show some sign of life – makes it so awkward for me. What is my next move?’
‘Really, darling, you must decide these things for yourself. It all depends on whether or not you want to marry Osborne – which is it?’
Marjorie said with petulance that she didn’t know. ‘I ran away,’ she continued angrily, ‘to find romance, and I have only found this disgusting bath.’
‘Well, I don’t know what you expect. There are two quite presentable young men staying in this very hotel, much more than you could have hoped for.’
‘I don’t like them.’
‘I never shall understand how you could have left that gorgeous wedding dress.’
‘Well, you know, I have an idea that the fashions will be far prettier next winter. What d’you suppose poor Mummy is doing with the presents?’
‘Keeping them, of course. After all the engagement isn’t broken off in The Times, remember; you’ve got scarlet-fever. I must say I take off my hat to your mother for thinking of that, it lasts six weeks you know, and at the end
