‘That’s what my father says,’ contributed one of the Bransomes. ‘I mean that there is no reason why a clergyman shouldn’t be a man. A Man of the World, you know.’

‘What on earth do you mean by “a man of the world”?’ asked Eileen Lawrence scornfully. She had no patience with other peoples’s vocabularies. The Bransome coloured and seceded from the conversation. She resolved that when she returned to England she would cultivate a manner like the Lawrences’.

‘Speaking as a churchwoman—’ tendered Mrs Lee-Mittison, busy with the sandwiches.

‘Anything at all, in fact,’ said Sydney, ‘so long as he is nothing of the priest.’

‘God forbid!’ said Mr Lee-Mittison seriously. He was a Protestant.

‘Well, it’s God’s affair—’

‘Oh, there’s Victor!’ shrieked Eileen. ‘I say do look, Veronica, there’s Victor down there in the trees … Look, he’s eating an orange. Hi, coo-ee, Victor; come up!’

‘Oh, we don’t want Victor up here,’ Veronica said, ‘he’s a bore. Oh, shut up, Eileen; leave him alone with his beastly orange. Messing it about all over his face, too, like a kid in a train.’

‘I think, as Mr Ammering is evidently on his own Eileen, we ought not to interrupt his walk.’ Mrs Lee-Mittison had spoken with authority, but Eileen took no notice and already the foundations of the picnic shook. Everybody stopped eating, rolled over sideways on their elbows and looked down. The Bransomes were intensely interested – how pathetic! ‘Why not ask him up?’ said Sydney. James Milton suggested, ‘Would you like me to go down?’

‘I think we had better not interrupt Mr Ammering’s walk,’ repeated Mrs Lee-Mittison desparingly. They all pointed out to her that he was already sitting down. She looked across at Herbert, the roof of her mouth turned cold; Herbert seemed so very much put out. She knew so much better than he did how often Herbert was hurt. Now all that lovely circle in which he most completely came alive had wavered, bulged and broken. She began a little wildly to recruit for attention. She tugged at Violet Bransome’s sleeve, she leaned sideways and tugged at the cousin’s; she signalled lavishly to Veronica and to Sydney. ‘I think Mr Lee-Mittison has a story to tell you. I think he is going to tell you a story now … Mr Milton,’ she whispered across, ‘do ask Eileen Lawrence to stay quiet. And ask Herbert (he’s so far away from me) ask him to begin …’