She had been late and the rest of the party were already in the car when she ran out, huddled in a wrap of obviously Anglo-Indian origin. Apologizing nervously she scrambled into the back seat and Dikon had time only to see that her head shone sleekly. Gaunt had funked the hairdressing and make-up part of his plan, and when Dikon caught a glimpse of Barbara’s face he was glad of this. She had paid a little timid attention to it herself. Mrs Claire sat beside Dikon, Barbara between Gaunt and her uncle in the back seat. When they had started, Dikon thought, unaccountably, of the many many times that he had driven Gaunt out to parties, of the things that were always said by the women who went with them, of how they so anxiously took the temperature of their own pleasure; of restaurants and night clubs reflecting each other’s images like mirrors in a tailor’s fitting room; of the end of such parties and of Gaunt’s fretful displeasure if the sequel was not a success; of money pouring out as if from the nerveless hands of an imbecile. Finally he thought of how, very gradually, his own reaction to this routine had changed. From being excited and stimulated he had become acquiescent and at last an addict. He was roused from this unaccountable retrospect by Mrs Claire who, twisting her plump little torso, peered back at her daughter. ‘Dear,’ she said, ‘isn’t your hair rather odd? Couldn’t you fluff it forward a little, softly?’ And Gaunt said quickly: ‘But I have been thinking how charming it looked.’ Dr Ackrington, who up till now had not uttered a word, cleared his throat and said he supposed they were to suffer exquisite discomfort at the concert. ‘No air, wooden benches, smells and caterwauling. Hope you expect nothing better, Gaunt. The natives of this country have been ruined by their own inertia and the criminal imbecility of the white population. We sent missionaries to stop them eating each other and bribed them with bad whisky to give up their land. We cured them of their own perfectly good communistic system, and taught them how to loaf on government support. We took away their chiefs and gave them trade-union secretaries. And for mating customs that agreed very well with them, we substituted, with a sanctimonious grimace, disease and holy matrimony.’

‘James!’

‘A fine people ruined. Look at the young men! Spend their time in…’

‘James!’

Gaunt, with the colour of laughter in his voice, asked if the Maori Battalion didn’t prove that the warrior spirit lived again.

‘Because in the army they’ve come under a system that agrees with them. Certainly,’ said Dr Ackrington triumphantly.

For the remainder of the short drive they had been silent.