Daphne was laughing into George’s face, after he finished one of his tirades. Clumsily he ran his fingers through her hair. Of all George’s fancies this was the most undisguised. One could not see them without knowing that Roy was right.
I had been there about an hour when there was a noise of feet in the hall, and Olive came in, with Jack Cotery behind her.
At once she came across to my chair and took my hands.
‘It must be years since I saw you,’ she said. Her eyes were full and excited; she was over twenty-eight now, it crossed my mind. Her face had thinned a little into an expression which I could not define at that first glance. As she turned to bring Jack towards me, the strong curve of her hips was more pronounced than when I last met her, the summer she left the town.
‘We didn’t think you’d be here so early,’ she cried. Then, catching someone’s smile, her eyes flew to the clock on the mantelpiece: it was after eleven, and she looked at me before breaking into laughter.
‘Good to see you,’ Jack began, a little breathless and embarrassed in the greeting, until, in a moment, his old ease returned. He took me to one side, and began chatting humorously, confidentially, as though to emphasise that he had a special claim upon my attention. ‘Life’s rather crowded,’ he chuckled when I asked him about himself. ‘I’ve always got something going to happen, you know. I’m just getting on top of it, though. Clearly I am.’
The room had become noisy again. The others were drinking and talking, leaving us in our corner. Over Jack’s shoulder, I saw Olive watching us with a frown as she talked to George. Jack was inquisitive about one of my cases. ‘If I’d been on the jury, you’d never have got him off—’
Olive came and took us each by the arm.
‘A few of us are going into the other room,’ she said. ‘We can’t talk with everyone about.’
They had been quarrelling. Jack looked displeased, as she led us into the other sitting-room. It struck cold as we entered; she lit the lamp and knelt down to put a match to the fire.
‘It won’t be warm enough,’ said Jack. ‘We’d better go back.’
Olive looked up.
‘No,’ she said violently. Jack turned aside; his cheeks reddened.
George came in, bottles clinking in his hands, and Daphne carried the glasses. Rachel followed them.
‘Oh, isn’t the fire going?’ she said. ‘I thought you two had been here all night—’ then she broke off abruptly.
George’s attention at last became diverted. He gazed at her from the tumblers into which he had been pouring gin.
‘It isn’t cold,’ he said. ‘The fire will soon be through.’ He was placating the inanimate world, as he always had done, never willing to admit the worst of his surroundings.
Olive stood by the fire. The rest of us brought up chairs, and she whispered a word to Jack. She was restless with excitement; a tension had grown up in the room, a foot tapping on the floor sounded very loud. She broke out, inclining her face to me with a quick smile: ‘What are you here for, anyway?’
‘To have a look at you.’
‘Lewis, is that true?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I had a feeling,’ she said, ‘when I saw you tonight — that there was something else behind it. I don’t believe it’s just a casual visit, is it now?’
I did not speak for a moment. In the presence of Rachel and Daphne I could not be frank.
‘As a matter of fact,’ I said, ‘I was a little worried about some of you.’
‘What about us?’
‘I heard something — by accident — that made me think you might be taking some silly risks.’ I paused. ‘Some silly financial risks.’
I expected George to interpose, but it was Olive who answered. She exclaimed: ‘Who told you that?’
‘No one,’ I said. ‘I only had the faintest suspicion. I worked it out from something your cousin Roy happened to say. He said it quite innocently, you realise.’
‘He says a good deal that isn’t innocent.’ Olive laughed, frankly and good-naturedly.
I said: ‘Look here, I want you to tell me if there’s anything in it. I’ve seen enough money lost, you know.’
Again it was Olive who answered. ‘I’m sorry to disappoint you. There’s nothing to tell.’
Jack began to talk of my practice, but in a moment Olive interrupted.
‘You’re not to worry about us,’ she said. ‘You understand? You can worry about our souls if you like.’
Suddenly she ceased to be competent and masterful, and her voice went hysterically high.
‘We’ve changed since your time,’ she said to me. ‘Haven’t we changed?’
‘We all have,’ I said.
‘That’s no good. That’s just playing with me,’ she said. ‘We’ve changed, I tell you. We’re not the same people. Don’t you see that?’
George shifted in his chair.
‘There’s something in it, but it’s an exaggeration put like that,’ he said. ‘You’ve all developed—’
‘We’ve all developed!’ Olive cried. ‘As though you’d nothing to do with it. As though you haven’t been more responsible than any of us.’
‘I accept that,’ said George loudly. ‘You don’t think I should pretend not to accept it. I’m proud of it. I’m prouder of it than anything else in my life.’
‘You mean to say you’re proud of having us—’
‘I’m proud that you’re the human being you are. And the same of Jack. And all the others. As well,’ said George, ‘as of Lewis, here.’
‘I’ve had more to do with myself than you have, George,’ Olive broke out, ‘and I should laugh at the idea of being proud.
‘Yet I’ve been complacent enough,’ she went on. ‘God knows how I found any reason for it. I’ve never done an unselfish action in my life without feeling complacent for being such a whirl of compassion. Oh, I know I looked after my father for years — don’t you think I was smug with myself for doing it?’
‘If you’re going down to that level,’ I said, ‘we are all the same. You oughtn’t to be savage with yourself — just with all people.’
‘Just with life,’ said Rachel. ‘Good God, girl, you’ve done more than most. You’ve had a man madly in love with you.’
‘Do you think,’ she cried, ‘I ought to be glad of that?’ She hesitated. ‘That was the one time,’ she said, ‘when I thought I might do something unselfish.’
‘When?’ cried Rachel.
‘When I lived with him,’ said Olive.
‘Why, you were in love with him,’ Daphne said, after a moment’s silence.
‘I never was,’ said Olive. She swept an arm round. ‘They know I never was.’
‘Why then?’ George leaned forward. ‘For all those months—’
Olive said: ‘I did it out of pity.’
Everyone was quiet; I looked into her eyes, and saw her glance fall away. Suddenly George laughed.
The strain had broken down: Jack was whispering to Olive, his eyes and hands eloquent and humorous; Daphne was sitting on the arm of George’s chair. I could feel that only my presence was keeping them from a wilder eirenicon; friend as I was, I was also a foreign influence, unfamiliar enough to keep the balance between decorum and release. My own nerves frayed (for I too had been played on by the undersweep of passion), I was glad when Olive rose to go to bed. Soon George and I were left alone.