She was sorry that, on the first day, she had made that distracted telephone call to Douglas. He meant well, but his sentimental sympathy had been irritating, unwelcome, almost degrading. And then the arrival of all those inquisitive people had made such a rowdy undignified scene. She ought, at that time, to have made sure that she had her grief to herself. A fuss and a drama had been made, and Miranda; who at breakfast time had been fairly calm, had become quite hysterical later in the morning. She was rather sorry too that Felix had come.
Ann was surprised to discover that even in the midst of the acute pain she was suffering she did continue to think about Felix. His image was present constantly in the background of her preoccupations, like a picture in a busy room, not regarded yet somehow affecting the consciousness. She was obscurely aware too of the possibility of recent events having altered her relation with Felix; but she was not sure whether the effect was simply to make him more remote or whether it was something else. While Randall's protection, however unwillingly given, had formally remained to her, there had been as it were a separate compartment in which Felix could be stored. Now she would have to make, for him, some other arrangement. She had not thought this out, and occupied with her maimed and obsessive passion for Randall, she had let the image of Felix recede a little and grow dim. Yet it still remained like a distant light and though she did not look at it she was glad it was there.
She had told him that she would ring him, but she had not done so. 'When it came to it, the action seemed a little too significant, and she had put it off. It was better to leave things. Then she had received a rather formal little note from Felix saying that he was going back to London, but that he would be returning to Seton Blaise, after dining nearby, on a certain evening, and might he drop in briefly on the way to take a cup of coffee and inquire how she was? Ann had said yes to this, as it seemed too unkind to say no — and because she suddenly felt he wanted to see him. Oh, as the day went on, she wanted very much to see him. And she trembled now, seeing the Mercedes.
It was late evening and the sky was an intense blue from which the radiance had been gradually withdrawn. The colours in the garden had risen to their last peak of shimmering brightness and now faded quietly like a descending hand. Murky purples and browns thickened in the distance. It was a very quiet evening. The church bells had been ringing for a practice, a sad sound, but they were silent now. As she went to the door Ann switched on the lamps in the drawing-room, and as she did so she glimpsed herself for a moment in the big mirror. She had put on a summer dress instead of her usual blouse and skirt, and the unexpected image startled her. She seemed another person.
'Come in, Felix, come into the drawing-room. How very nice to see you. Would you like the electric fire? It's getting rather chilly now. I've got some brandy for you, I hope it's the right kind. You have dined, haven't you?
Felix came stooping through the doorway. He looked, she thought, terribly respectable in his dark suit and outrageously immaculate shirt and narrow tie. Ann, even in her best cotton dress, felt shabby and tousled beside him. She smiled at the thought.
Felix accepted the electric fire and the brandy, said he had dined, and answered questions about Mildred's welfare. Then silence fell between them.
They were sitting in armchairs on either side of the fireplace. The electric fire sat a little forlornly in the big grate. Aim could feel him looking at her and tried quickly to think of something to' say. It struck her suddenly as extraordinary that she should be sitting here so late at night alone with Felix: extraordinary and pleasant and alarming. Then she was amazed to find herself feeling tearful. She said quickly the first thing that came into her head. 'Oh, everything is such a mess here. I do wish I could catch up. I just get into more and more of a muddle. I still haven't sent out those catalogues.’ Felix said, 'I wish you'd let me help you. Couldn't I do the catalogues?
'No, of course not! It's only a few hours' work really. It's just that I've got so terribly tired.
'You certainly look' tired, said Felix. 'You ought to have a holiday. Let me drive you to Greece.
Ann was startled. Instantly she had a clear almost magical vision of herself flying southward with Felix in the very dark blue Mercedes. With this there came a very odd and unfamiliar feeling, and she said with frightened vehemence, 'No, that's quite impossible I'm afraid.
'Ah well, said' Felix. He inhaled his brandy. He said, 'Have you heard anything from Randall? I hope you don't mind my asking.
'No. She looked blankly at the electric fire. For some reason Felix's presence was making her feel dreadfully sorry for herself.
'I'm sorry I came rushing over last week, said Felix. 'I realized afterwards that it was impertinent and tiresome to intrude at such a time. But I was getting rather tired of cooling my heels at Seton Blaise.
'I didn't even know you were there, said Ann. 'You should have come over sooner.
Felix bowed his head, looked intently into his brandy, and muttered something about' didn't know if you wanted to see me'.
'You know I'm always glad to see you, said Ann. The words, although true, had a casual lying ring. It was not like that. She was speaking as if she did not know things which she did know. She was talking to him as if he were just an old friend. But was he then not? Ann felt confused. She found herself thinking that through sheer tiredness and blankness she might kill something in the conversation, and she recalled Randall's taunts: she killed gaiety and spontaneity, she banished life. The spirit that says no. But why did it matter so, much now?
'Ann, forgive me, said Felix, straightening up, 'but will you give Randall a divorce if he wants one?
Ann took a quick breath. She was not ready for this directness. But she felt immediately more alert. 'He does want one, and if he goes on wanting it long enough I suppose I'll give it to him. But I'm not going to do anything about it at the moment.
'Do you think Randall will come back?
Ann felt the touch of something deadly. She wanted to cry out with wild tears, 'I don't know, I don't care! Catching herself she said coldly 'I really can't say, Felix, I've no idea. She added, in spite of herself, in a tone of bitter bad-tempered weariness, 'I've no idea. I've no idea. I've no idea.
'Well, quite. I'm sorry, said Felix. He seemed discouraged.
'I do apologize, said Ann. 'I'm in a rotten state of mind tonight. I'm not fit for human company. I think perhaps you'd better go now, Felix. She could not think why she felt so wretchedly nervous and cross. She didn't really want him to go.
'Let me stay a little longer, he said gently.
Ann replied with a weary gesture and went on staring at the fire.
Her body felt strange.
'I hope I didn't — offend you last week, he said suddenly.
'No, when?
'When I —’ he fell silent.
She looked at him quickly. 'No, no, of course not. ; Ann thought, I must gather my wits. Something is going to happen. Something is happening.
'Oh, Ann — he said. He put the brandy down on the floor. It was a declaration of love.