The quick movement betrayed some tension of fear or expectancy. Mrs Kerr, he thought in surprise, as having counted the windows up from the ground and then along from left to right he located the balcony. Why should she still and in such wretchedness be waiting for Ronald? He listened and watched; the room behind her was empty. Then, as the figure still with its arms stretched out gripping the balcony turned her head sideways, he recognized Sydney. It was on the tip of his tongue to call to her, as though she were a child for whose conduct he was somehow responsible. She should have left them alone tonight, he thought, and flamed with disinterested anger. He took a few steps backwards, propped himself against a tree and remained looking up at the balcony. She shivered; he shivered in sympathy. How much (though how properly) Mrs Kerr had found to say to her son. It was long past midnight now and very cold; the dance was over and the music silent some time ago. All the other lights were out except one at the very top left-hand corner, where Ronald and his mother must still be talking.

‘Damn Ronald!’ thought James Milton; ‘she and I will be catching our deaths.’ A clock in the town struck the half-hour and a bell from a convent above them answered it. Emboldened by the breach these made in the silence he called, ‘Good night, Miss Warren.’

Sydney started violently and after one more fierce glance on to the trees retreated from the balcony. He saw her pause a moment under the light and look round as though to take a farewell of her expectations; then the room was dashed from his sight by darkness. A panel of fresh light shone for a moment as the door on to the corridor opened and shut. Sighing, and with a sense of half-accomplishment, he too went in to bed.

12

Any Hope?

‘WELL?’ MRS KERR SAID expansively, meeting Sydney on the stairs next morning. ‘Isn’t it rather a nice puppy?’

She was dressed to go out, with a blue straw hat pulled down over her eyes. She had paused with a hand out to steady herself against the frame of the staircase window, and the north light defined the smiling curve of one cheek and drew prismatic colours out of an earring. She was evidently very happy.

‘What puppy?’ Sydney said blankly, looking up from a few steps below her.

‘My Ronald. Isn’t it rather a nice ——’

‘Oh very, yes. I thought it seemed a rather severe puppy last night, but I dare say that was the journey.’