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John Andrew had never before seen a Princess; he gazed at her fascinated.

“Aren't you going to give me a kiss?”

He walked over to her and she kissed him on the mouth.

“Oh,” he said, recoiling and rubbing away the taste of the lipstick; and then “What a beautiful smell.”

“It's my last link with the East,” she said.

“You've got butter on your chin.”

She reached for her bag, laughing. “Why so I have. Teddy, you might have told me.”

“Why do you call daddy, Teddy?”

“Because I hope we are going to be great friends.”

“What a funny reason.”

John stayed with them for an hour and all the time watched her fascinated. “Have you got a crown?” he asked. “How did you learn to speak English? What is that big ring made of? Did it cost much? Why are your nails that colour? Can you ride?”

She answered all his questions, sometimes enigmatically with an eye on Tony. She took out a little heavily scented handkerchief and showed John the monogram. “That is my only crown … now,” she said. She told him about the horses she used to have — glossy black, with arched necks; foam round their silver bits; plumes tossing on their foreheads; silver studs on the harness, crimson saddle cloths, “On the Moulay's birthday — “

“What's the Moulay?”

“A beautiful and a very bad man,” she said gravely, “and on his birthday all his horsemen used to assemble round a great square, with all their finest clothes and trappings and jewels, with long swords in their hands. The Moulay used to sit on a throne under a great crimson canopy.”

“What's a canopy?”

“Like a tent,” she said more sharply, and then resuming her soft voice, “and all the horsemen used to gallop across the plain, in a great cloud of dust, waving their swords, straight towards the Moulay. And everyone used to hold their breath, thinking the horsemen were bound to ride right on top of the Moulay, but when they were a few feet away, as near as I am to you, galloping at full speed, they used to rein their horses back, up on to their hind legs and salute — “

“Oh but they shouldn't,” said John. “It's very bad horsemanship indeed. Ben says so.”

“They're the most wonderful horsemen in the world. Everyone knows that.”

“Oh no, they can't be, if they do that. It's one of the worst things. Were they natives?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Ben says natives aren't humans at all really.”

“Ah but he's thinking of Negroes I expect. These are pure Semitic type.”

“What's that?”

“The same as Jews.”

“Ben says Jews are worse than natives.”

“Oh dear, what a very severe boy you are. I was like that once. Life teaches one to be tolerant.”

“It hasn't taught Ben,” said John. “When's mummy coming? I thought she'd be here, otherwise I wouldn't have stopped painting my picture.”

But when nanny came to fetch him, John, without invitation, went over and kissed Jenny goodnight. “Goodnight, Johnny-boy,” she said.

“What did you call me?”

“Johnny-boy.”

“You are funny with names.”

Upstairs, meditatively splashing his spoon in the bread and milk, he said, “Nanny, I do think that Princess is beautiful, don't you?”

Nanny sniffed. “It would be a dull world if we all thought alike,” she said.

“She's more beautiful than Miss Tendril, even. I think she's the most beautiful lady I've ever seen … D'you think she'd like to watch me have my bath?”

Downstairs, Jenny said, “What a heavenly child … I love children. That has been my great tragedy. It was when he found I couldn't have children that the Moulay first showed the Other Side of his Nature. It wasn't my fault … you see my womb is out of place … I don't know why I'm telling you all this, but I feel you'll understand. It's such a waste of time, isn't it, when one knows one is going to like someone and one goes on pretending … I know at once if someone is going to be a real friend …”

Polly and Brenda arrived just before seven. Brenda went straight up to the nursery. “Oh, mummy,” said John. “There's such a beautiful lady downstairs. Do ask her to come and say goodnight. Nanny doesn't think she'd want to.

“Did daddy seem to like her?”

“He didn't talk much … She doesn't know anything about horses or natives but she is beautiful. Please tell her to come up.”

Brenda went downstairs and found Jenny with Polly and Tony in the smoking room. “You've made a wild success with John Andrew. He won't go to sleep until he's seen you again.”

They went up together, and Jenny said, “They're both such dears.”

“Did you and Tony get on? I was so sorry not to be here when you arrived.”

“He was so sympathetic and gentle … and so wistful.” They sat on John's small bed in the night-nursery. He threw the clothes back and crawled out, nestling against Jenny. “Back to bed,” she said, “or I shall spank you.”

“Would you do it hard? I shouldn't mind.”

“Oh dear,” said Brenda, “what a terrible effect you seem to have. He's never like this as a rule.”

When they had gone nanny threw open another window. “Poof!” she said, “making the whole place stink.”

“Don't you like it? I think it's lovely.”

Brenda took Polly up to Lyonesse. It was a large suite, fitted up with satinwood for King Edward when, as Prince of Wales, he was once expected at a shooting party; he never came.

“How's it going?” she asked anxiously.

“Too soon to tell. I'm sure it will be all right.”

“She's got the wrong chap. John Andrew's mad about her … quite embarrassing.”

“I should say Tony was a slow starter. It's a pity she's got his name wrong. Ought we to tell her?”

“No, let's leave it.”

“When she was dressing Tony said, “Brenda, who is this joke-woman?”

“Darling, don't you like her?”

The disappointment and distress in her tone were so clear that Tony was touched. “I don't know about not liking her exactly. She's just a joke, isn't she?”

“Is she … oh dear … She's had a terrible life you know.”

“So I gathered.”

“Be nice to her, Tony please.”

“Oh, I'll be nice to her. Is she Jewish?”

“I don't know. I never thought. Perhaps she is.”

Soon after dinner Polly said she was tired and asked Brenda to come with her while she undressed. “Leave the young couple to it,” she whispered outside the door.

“My dear, I don't believe it's going to be any good … the poor boy's got some taste you know, and a sense of humour.”

“She didn't show up too well at dinner, did she?”

“She will go on so … and after all Tony's been used to me for seven years. It's rather a sudden change.”

“Tired?”

“Mmm. Little bit.”

“You gave me a pretty long bout of Abdul Akbar.”

“I know. I'm sorry, darling, but Polly takes so long to get to bed … Was it awful? I wish you liked her more.”

“She's awful.”

“One has to make allowances … she's got the most terrible scars.”

“So she told me.”

“I've seen them.”

“Besides I hoped to see something of you.”

“Oh.”

“Brenda, you aren't angry still about my getting tight that night and waking you up?”

“No, sweet, do I seem angry?”

“… I don't know. You do rather … Has it been an amusing week?”