“What is just so wonderful about being here,” she was now saying, “is that it’s so safe. I mean, can you imagine, Gini, bringing up a teenage girl in New York City these days—any big American city, come to that? Whereas here, all these darling little villages—I always know where Mina is. No hooliganism, no drugs, no muggers—” She hesitated. “I guess I shouldn’t say this, but you know I haven’t seen a black face since we moved here? Except around the base, that is…”

“Really?”

Rowland saw Gini raise her cool gray eyes to Mrs. Landis’s face.

“Well, my boyfriend’s due here any moment. He’s black. So that should even things out a little. Excuse me, will you? There’s a telephone call I’m trying to make.”

It was perfectly done. For a second, even Rowland was convinced. Mrs. Landis blushed crimson. Gini left the room. Very shortly afterward, the Landises left.

“Don’t, Rowland.” Charlotte had materialized at his side. “I know what you’re thinking.”

“I imagine you would. Why on earth do you allow them in your house?”

“He’s a horror, I admit.” Charlotte shrugged. “She isn’t half as bad as she seems. She’s bullied and lonely and desperate to make friends. The bloody snobby English around here snicker about her clothes and her house.”

“How about her views on race?”

“Oh, come on, Rowland. They agree with those. One of the penalties of living in Gloucestershire. So stop standing there in the corner, making superficial judgments on my guests. Come and cheer Lindsay up. She’s been fielding Robert Landis for hours. First we had golf, then the virtues of Newt Gingrich, then he remembered who she was and wanted to know what the little ladies would be wearing this year.”

“You’re exaggerating.”

“Only a bit. Lindsay told him breasts were small last year, but this year they were going to be big.” Charlotte linked her arm through his. “Come on, Rowland, only ten more minutes, then it’s steak and kidney pie. I made it specially for you.”

Rowland hesitated. Lindsay, who had been strenuously avoiding him since he walked in, had just given him a cold glance and turned her back. She was looking very fetching in a short, tight black leather skirt and black flats. She wore a white shirt with a high collar. With her short, curly hair and her slim figure, she looked boyish, like a medieval page, Rowland thought.

He consented to be led across. Charlotte immediately left them. Lindsay said: “I had an excellent bath, thanks, Rowland. One and a half inches of lukewarm water. And all the towels were wet.”

“I’m sorry. I’m not very house-trained,” Rowland said.

“You don’t look sorry.” Lindsay raised her face and inspected his. “You look amused and unrepentant.”

“Not true,” Rowland replied lazily. “I do repent. I repent in my heart. It just doesn’t always show on my face. My standards have slipped. That happens to men who live alone.”

“Then it doesn’t apply in your case,” Lindsay said smartly. “If rumor can be believed, you don’t spend much time alone.”