“Even if you don’t, I do. Stay there – no, come with me.” She looked at my feet. “There’s some slippers in a red box in the bottom of the wardrobe. They should fit you.”

The kitchen was tidy; the presence of the gas-washer, a large deal table and the sink made it impossible to occupy it with any­one else without touching them. I put my arm around her waist. She sighed and moved closer to me then pushed my arm away.

“I’ll break the glasses.” She sighed again. Her whole body sud­denly seemed to have gone rigid. I looked at her. Her face had gone very pink.

I took the tray from her and followed her back into the sitting-room. As I watched her pouring the drinks I suddenly real­ized that a problem had been solved. It had been solved be­cause I wasn’t a gentleman, because I had no scruples about compro­mising Norah.

I lit her a cigarette.

“Thanks,” she said. She handed me a glass of whisky. “Do you want water?”

I shook my head.

“I don’t think I do, either.” She sat down on the chair opposite me.

“I love you,” I said.

She took another sip of whisky. “I’m glad you can talk,” she said.

I went to the sofa. “Come over here.”

“No. You’ll have to go very soon anyway.”

“I like it here. This is the right place for me. Isn’t it the right place?” I stood up. “Why don’t you want me to come near you?”

“I never did. I don’t like you. If you weren’t so conceited, you’d understand that.”

“Why did you invite me in?”

“Because I was sorry for you. Because it’s so obvious you’ve taken a beating.” She crossed the room to the chest of drawers and brought out a towel. She threw it over to me. “Your socks are wet, too, Councillor Lampton. I’ve told you where the slip­pers are.”

I opened both doors of the wardrobe. The slippers were brand new blue morocco.

“These are very opulent,” I said.

“They’re a present for my father. They’ll have to be a present for you now, won’t they?”

“Keep them here for me.”

“You’re not going to come here again, Councillor Lampton.”

My back still towards her, I put out my hand to touch a neatly folded white slip then drew it back again.

“I wish you wouldn’t call me that.”

“It seems to keep the situation manageable. What are you star­ing at inside the wardrobe?”

“I was looking at your clothes.” I closed the doors.

“There aren’t many,” she said. “I travel light.”

“I’ll buy you some,” I said. I sat down and took off my socks and began to dry my feet.