He had not so far thought very much about touching her; at least he had not thought about it with any kind of precision. He had been content to touch her hand and her shoulder in a way which was natural, but had an added sweetness and excitement: and the thrill of her presence had affected his whole being like a warm breeze which soothed rather than disturbed. Now however it began to be different. It was as if Miranda's savage pinches were designed to awaken in him something far more primitive, and he felt, sometimes with wretcheddness and sometimes with a sort of dark zest, more depraved. The thoughts of strategy found here their context. Penn found himself wondering if it wouldn't be a good plan, if it would not perhaps further his cause, if he were to give Miranda a hard slap one of these days. Perhaps this indeed was what her treatment of him was designed to produce, perhaps she wanted him to be brutal? Before this conjecture Penn paused, first with amazement and then with a sort of pride. He was in deep waters. But he was shocked to find, now that it was suddenly released, how much sheer animosity he had in him against his young mistress. With this release, terrible, black, new, came sexual desire. Penn had imagined earlier that he was suffering. But those had been pure flames. Now he lay tossing sleepless in bed and imagined her body. Guilt now blackened his vision and complicated his pain. His desires grew hideously precise; and in the dark stream of his new yearning it was as if he were back at the beginning again and the real Miranda had disappeared. Only that had been heaven whereas this was hell. The first Miranda had been a heavenly vision. The last Miranda was a doll of flesh.
On the day of the expedition to Seton Blaise Penn's gloom had been a little alleviated at first because Miranda had been nice to him in the morning. She had been particularly unpleasant to him on the previous day; and although Penn believed that he filled a certain need for her, during the time after her father's departure, her malice was hard to bear all the same and he was glad, the next morning, of a kind word. Lunch had been all right. He had felt a little reconciled with Miranda, and he couldn't help enjoying the food; but after lunch, in the garden wanderings, she had avoided him. He had hurried away, he hoped not too rudely, from the kindly Humphrey who had seemed disposed to talk to him, and pursued her a little through the trees; but each time as he came near she had run on, and he could see her now ahead, following close behind Ann and Felix, going in the direction of the lake. Mildred, who had detached herself from that group, had joined her husband beside the water, and they seemed to be discussing a possible new landing-stage. Penn was alone with his trouble.
They all converged upon a place where the trees ended and there was a little gently sloping shingly beach. The sunshine was bright and large after the scattered light of the grove. The lake stretched away into flat expanses of reddish and yellowish reed beds, in front of which a few coots and tufted ducks swam lazily about. The open fields, scarcely visible on the other side, were fringed with ragged lines of elm and hawthorn. Penn edged near to Miranda, but she was holding on to her mother's Ann in a little-girlish sort of way and paid him no attention.
Mildred and Humphrey had joined them. 'We must get that boat, don't you think? said Mildred. 'A boat is what this scene needs. It would look so romantic nestling among the reeds.
'It wouldn't be so romantic having to paint it every winter and stop up the holes. Eh, Penn? said Humphrey.
Penn laughed.
Felix would do all that, said Mildred. 'Wouldn't you, Felix? It's so nice that you're going to stay in England. You're so useful.
Felix smiled, but did not seem disposed to pursue the question of the boat. He was looking, Penn thought, very fine today, huge and brown in a sagging open-necked white shirt.
Ann picked up a pebble from the shingly beach and threw it into the water. She stared at the ripples. She was looking rather nice in a pretty flowery dress, but sad. She had her hair sleeked back as usual, but Penn thought she must have put on some make-up or something. Her face looked different.
Felix picked up another pebble and threw it after Ann's. It fell dead into the centre of her circle of ripples. They looked at each other smiling.
Almost automatically Penn selected a rather larger stone and threw it far out in the water. It fell near the coots, who beat a hasty retreat into the reeds on the other side.
'That was a mighty throw, said Humphrey. 'But you're a cricketing man, aren't you, Penn?
Penn was pleased. He picked up another stone.
'I bet you couldn't throw as far as that, Felix, said Mildred.
'I'm sure I couldn't!” said Felix. He found himself a stone and mounting a little up the beach discharged it high into the air. It fell with a loud splash a good few yards beyond Penn's.
'Oh, well done! said Ann.
Miranda had detached herself from Ann and mounted to the top of the bank behind Felix. She was watching with interest.
«I don't think Penn was really trying, said Humphrey. 'The competition hadn't begun, so it wasn't fair.
Penn mounted a little too, getting a good foothold in the shingle.
He was conscious of Miranda behind him like a pale cloud. He threw his stone with an easy strength and outstripped Felix's throw by a yard!
Everyone cried' Splendid! and began to egg Felix on to try again.
'Let each of them have three throws, said Humphrey, 'not counting Penn's first throw. I will undertake to give a first prize and a booby prize.
Felix prepared to throw again. As his great shoulders moved for the throw he seemed to Penn giant-like, yet of an extreme grace. His shirt billowed and his sleeves flapped and he was perspiring freely. Penn, who was wearing a tie and a blazer, felt dapper and neat by comparison. But he was glad to be throwing the stones in front of Miranda and he felt suddenly happy.
Felix's next stone fell a little way beyond Penn's last one.
Penn was now determined to excel. He took a little time, as when he was about, to bowl, trampling about and weighing the stone, pleased to have all eyes upon him. Then with an easy turn of his body he sent it flying. It fell, amid applause, well beyond the last mark.
'It's incredible, said Mildred. 'I can't think how a human being can send a stone so far. Penn must be a superman!
Felix, with a look of comical determination, took his stance, and without preliminaries, while the others were still exclaiming, hurled his pebble. It out-distanced Penn's last throw by several yards, landing almost among the reeds on the other side of the lake. There were admiring cries.
Penn thought, I can beat that. It was almost as if his will alone could carry the stone bird-like and drop it out of sight in the middle of the reed bed. He loosened his shoulders and dropped his arms for a moment as his coach had told him to do. He moved into action. But just as his hand was coming forward he saw Miranda, who had advanced to the edge of the beach a little beyond the group, and with apparent unconcern was taking her shoes and socks off. Penn's stone fell a little short of his second throw and well behind Felix's. There were groans of commiseration.