The shoulder of the hill came between them and the song. It was almost dark as they walked along the brushwood fence towards Wai-ata-tapu. Steam from the hot pools drifted in wraiths across the still night air. It was only when she moved forward that Barbara’s dress and the blurred patches of white that were her arms and face told them that she had been waiting for them. Perhaps the darkness gave her courage and balance. Perhaps any voice would have been welcome just then, but it seemed to Dikon that Barbara’s had a directness and repose that he had not heard in it before.

‘I hope I didn’t startle you,’ she said. ‘I heard you coming down the path and thought I should like to speak to you.’

Gaunt said: ‘What is it, Miss Claire? More excursions and alarms?’

‘No, no. We seem to have settled down again. It’s only that I wanted to tell you how very sorry we all are about that frightful scene. We shan’t go on apologizing, but I did just want to say this: Please don’t think you are under an obligation to stay. Of course you know you are not, but perhaps you feel it’s rather difficult to tell us you are going. Don’t hesitate. We shall quite understand.’

She turned her head and they saw her in profile against a shifting background of steam. The dusk, simplifying her ugly dress, revealed the beauty of her silhouette. The profile lines of her head and throat were well-drawn, delicate and harmonious. It was an astonishing change. Perhaps if Gaunt had not seen her so translated, his voice would have held less warmth and friendliness when he answered her.

‘But there is no question of our going,’ he said. ‘We have not thought of it. As for the scene, Dikon will tell you that I have a lust for scenes. We are very sorry if you’re in difficulties, but we don’t in the least want to go.’

Dikon saw him take her arm and turn her towards the house. It was a gesture he often used on the stage, adroit and impersonal. Dikon followed behind as they walked across the pumice.

‘It’s awfully nice of you,’ Barbara was saying. ‘I—we have felt so frightful about it. I was horrified when I heard what Mr Questing had done, badgering you to come. We didn’t know what he was up to. Uncle James and I were horrified.’

‘He didn’t badger me,’ said Gaunt. ‘Dikon attended to Questing. That’s why I keep him.’

‘Oh.’ Barbara half turned her head and laughed, not with her usual boisterousness, but shyly. ‘I wondered what he was for,’ she said.

‘He has his uses. When I start work again he’ll be kept very spry.’

‘You’re going to write, aren’t you? Uncle James told me. Is it an autobiography? I do hope it is.’