I got up and took from my desk where it always accompanied me a photograph of my favourite Chinese picture. It represents an old man sitting beneath a tree playing cat’s cradle with a piece of string on his fingers and toes.

“It was in the Chinese exhibition,” I said. “It fascinated me. Allow me to introduce you. It is called ‘Old Man enjoying the Pleasure of Idleness.’”

Aimée Griffith was unimpressed by my lovely picture. She said: “Oh well, we all know what the Chinese are like!”

“It doesn’t appeal to you?” I asked.

“Frankly, no. I’m not very interested in art, I’m afraid. Your attitude, Mr. Burton, is typical of that of most men. You dislike the idea of women working—of their competing—”

I was taken aback, I had come up against the Feminist. Aimée was well away, her cheeks flushed.

“It is incredible to you that women should want a career. It was incredible to my parents. I was anxious to study for a doctor. They would not hear of paying the fees. But they paid them readily for Owen. Yet I should have made a better doctor than my brother.”

“I’m sorry about that,” I said. “It was tough on you. If one wants to do a thing—”

She went on quickly:

“Oh, I’ve got over it now. I’ve plenty of willpower. My life is busy and active. I’m one of the happiest people in Lymstock. Plenty to do. But I do go up in arms against the silly old-fashioned prejudice that women’s place is always the home.”

“I’m sorry if I offended you,” I said. “And that wasn’t really my point. I don’t see Megan in a domestic role at all.”

“No, poor child. She’ll be a misfit anywhere, I’m afraid.” Aimée had calmed down. She was speaking quite normally again. “Her father, you know—”

She paused and I said bluntly: “I don’t know. Everyone says ‘her father’ and drops their voice, and that is that. What did the man do? Is he alive still?”

“I really don’t know. And I’m rather vague myself, I’m afraid. But he was definitely a bad lot. Prison, I believe. And a streak of very strong abnormality. That’s why it wouldn’t surprise me if Megan was a bit ‘wanting.’”

“Megan,” I said, “is in full possession of her senses, and as I said before, I consider her an intelligent girl. My sister thinks so too. Joanna is very fond of her.”

Aimée said:

“I’m afraid your sister must find it very dull down here.”

And as she said it, I learnt something else. Aimée Griffith disliked my sister. It was there in the smooth conventional tones of her voice.

“We’ve all wondered how you could both bear to bury yourselves in such an out-of-the-way spot.”

It was a question and I answered it.

“Doctor’s orders. I was to come somewhere very quiet where nothing ever happened.” I paused and added, “Not quite true of Lymstock now.”

“No, no, indeed.”