This letter disturbed Felix, and not only because it made him feel that he had behaved badly. It disturbed him for a deeper reason. He had left things unfinished between himself and Marie-Laure. And the devil of it was that he wanted them, for the present, to remain unfinished. The scent of her personality came strongly from the letter. He took stock of the extent to which she still existed for him. He did not want to tell her to forget him. Yet what else could he honestly tell her?
'Well, I don't know, Mildred was going on. 'I'm sure she didn't go there for fun. Did you see how confused Hugh was? He hated our finding her there.
'That's perfectly natural, said Felix. Je crois voir comment vous vous raidissez en lisant ceci.
'Maybe, said Mildred. 'Dear Hugh. Dog-faced Emma shan't have him, not if l can help it.
'How much do you think Hugh realizes of your kind intentions? Vous prejerez que les choses arrivent sans avoir besoin d'etre decidees.
'Oh, nothing, my dear! He's like a new-born babe, always was. He thinks of me as a big solid sensible girl, a nice shaggy old friend, rather like Nana in Peter Pan!
Felix laughed. 'Will he get a surprise? Je ne veux pas que tout finisse entre nous a cause d' un malentendu.
'If I succeed, you mean? I'm not sure. He may never know. Sometimes I think that would be the most beautiful. I should swallow him without his even noticing it.
'I think he'd realize something was up! Brandy, Mildred? or some Cointreau? Mon beau Felix, je ne veux pas mourir a force d' hre raisonnable.
'Thank you, yes, a little Cointreau. What a lovely meal, Felix. Ah, my dear, I wish I could screw your courage to the sticking point. I can inspire courage in quarters where it harms me. I can't inspire it in quarters where I want to see it. And I can't even use my own! I'm hamstrung.
'So am I, said Felix. 'Do you mind if I smoke? Je vous aime de tout mon etre, je desire vous epouser, etre avec vous pour toujours.
'Of course I don't mind if you smoke. Why do you go on asking me year after year? There's no need for you to be. You ought to approach Ann in a straightforward way.
'Let's not have this again, shall we? said Felix. He added, 'You know, I don't think Miranda likes me. It struck me again this time. Felix, Felix, souhaitez-vous vraiment me revoir?
'Stop making excuses, said Mildred. 'Miranda doesn't like anybody except herself and possibly her papa. She'd put up with you. Really, it's difficult enough without having Miranda the measure of all things into the bargain. No, you should do as I say. If you're waiting for Randall to clear off properly, you may wait forever.
'I wonder, said Felix, his attention caught. 'I wonder.
'I'll tell you one good reason why Randall will never go off, not properly that is.
'I've thought of that one.
'Precisely. No dough. He just can't clear off.
Felix was gloomily silent a moment. 'What's the answer? Mildred pondered. 'I suppose we could lend him some. Felix laughed. 'Do you know, I think he'd take it?
'Of course he'd take it. Anyway we could always make it anonymous. What do you think, Felix, seriously? I expect he'd need a great deal.
'Mildred, there are limits!
'Are there? All's fair in love and war, they say. And you a soldier.
'Quite, said Felix. 'All is not fair in war, thank God, and when it is I shall resign. Nor in love either.
'War is too terrible for fairness now, said Mildred, 'and love has always been. Ann is probably dying for you to take her by storm.
'I don't think so, said Felix shortly.
'Well, he won't go, said Mildred. 'He has no money. He won't go, he can't go. So there we are.
Chapter Eighteen
'THEY'RE devoted, you know, said Randall.
It was late at night. The curtains were drawn in Hugh's flat in Brompton Square. It had been a breathlessly hot day and now the purple airless dark trembled over London, opaque and very still.
Hugh and Randall had dined together, and dined well. They were returned and had been drinking brandy. It had been, rather to Hugh's surprise, an agreeable evening. When Randall had rung up to suggest such a meeting Hugh had feared that there would be some sort of unpleasantness. But in fact they had talked during dinner of indifferent matters and so revived the old comradeship between them that Hugh was ready to think it was just for that that Randall had come. Only now, very late, did the names of any of the women arise. Hugh looked at his watch.
Hugh had been doing nothing lately except think about Emma; and although many of the thoughts were painful the total activity was a joy and the degree of engrossment a miracle. He was still, of course, almost totally in the dark. He not only did not know what Emma was thinking, he did not even yet know exactly what he wanted, not exactly that is. But he knew relentlessly in which direction he must go, and in that direction he struggled on alone, under a banner on which were inscribed the words Liberty and Starvation.
For Hugh found himself somewhat in the position of one who has scarcely recovered from the first wild joy of release from prison when he discovers that though he is indeed free he is free only to starve. The extent to which he did now positively feel free struck him as amazing, since he had not thought himself, with Fanny, so especially tied. But the openness of the world now burst on him with dazzling power, and he felt faint with too much fresh air. Yet with this came other needs. As an elderly married man, surrounded by an accustomed and reasonably affectionate circle, he had been long settled in an emotional routine which was so much a routine that the emotions were indeed barely perceptible at all. But now, although the persons, all but one, who had cared for him were still in their places they no longer seemed to suffice. Hugh felt starved for human encounters and surprises, direct glances, wrestlings of soul with soul and wild unblunted affections.
His renewal of relations with Emma had been in many ways not what he expected. She was, he went on noticing, somehow older than he would have thought likely, and in some respects seemed older than himself. If he had imagined himself as it were waltzing away with Emma it was certainly not like that. Emma had changed, and there was something resigned and morose in her against which he blundered. Yet she was also the same Emma; and his sense of a certain compassion for her gave but a finer savour to his age-old acknowledgement of her superiority. What moved him most of all was the absolute directness of their communication which gave him just that salty taste of reality for which he craved.