Sophia, bent on being tactful, looked up with a pleasant smile as the door opened, trying not to wonder how much the taxi had cost.

Harry and Francis blew in. That was just what they did. Everyone admits the transfiguring force of Love; that of Money is equally great. Six months ago the two had had a slightly defiant air; their native charm was part of their defence against life, which they assumed was going to hit them. Now their charm and youth lay like a delightful gloss upon their happiness. They felt secure. They had pounds and pounds and pounds, and it would last for months. Uncle Preston and Mr Marriot might as well have tried to stop the sun from shining as stop these two young men from doing what they wanted to do.

‘Hul-lo, darling!’

‘I say, did you see her?’

‘Yes, it’s all right. Francis, what a woman! She’s like a goddess. But she’s really grand. I’m glad I met her.’

‘You’re sure it’s all right? What did she say?’

Sophia briefly told what had happened that afternoon, and Francis was very greatly relieved. He kissed Sophia affectionately, and thanked her several times, and she almost felt that this repaid her for the afternoon. It was delightful to help people and to feel that one was a brave, tactful, unselfish and reliable person. No wonder people got so keen about being good; it certainly was a very pleasant sensation. She went on with her supper and her book, glowing smugly and thinking that after all it would not be so difficult to be tactful and do her duty.

But in a little while she became aware through the pleasant atmosphere which filled the cottage that there was something wrong.

This familiar sensation refused to go away. She read the same paragraph three times, she ate another fresh fig with relish, but it would not go. And then she realized that Harry and Francis were not behaving as they usually did. They were wandering about, glancing at Razzle and tossing it down, fiddling with things and keeping silent.

At last she looked up and said amiably: ‘You going out?’

‘Old Juan’s going to’ phone about nine. We may go down to Buzzy’s.’ (Buzzy, whose status and sex never became clarified in Sophia’s mind, had a flat in a mews off Berkeley Square.)

‘Oh.’

She went back to her book. The uneasy feeling persisted.

‘Sophia,’ said Harry at last.

She looked up, and across at him with a feeling of dread, of actual dread. The silence had become like that before an explosion, and had stolen her feeling of peace and happiness while she tried to read and to ignore its menace. All her black anxieties returned.

‘Yes? Is anything up?’

‘Look here. I know it’s pretty rotten coming on the top of seeing Toby’s mother, but the fact is, Juan’s aunt wants to have a talk with you. She’s fed up with Juan and Belinha and us, silly old fool, and she wants to talk things over with you – you being the respectable member of the family.’