Robin, what’s that on the ceiling there? Is it a moth got in?”
Robin bestirred himself, and examined the immobile wings spread in the rose-coloured light on the ceiling. “It certainly is,” he said. “Isn’t there a duster somewhere on the bookcase? Can I stand on this chair?”
“Put a paper on it first.”
“Be careful,” said Jane. Robin looked round at her with amusement. “It’s quite furry,” he reported. “Have you suddenly taken a fancy to them?”
“You can handle it carefully.”
“Yes, dear, don’t crush it,” said Mrs. Fennel. “Gather it up firmly but gently. Put it out of the window.”
They all watched while Robin’s head and reaching hands shut out the light, and Mr. Fennel looked up resignedly as the shadow fell across his paper. Katherine felt that at this moment it was at last natural for her to be there, yet at the same time there was no intimacy among them: the whole thing resembled a scene in a hotel lounge. But she dismissed the comparison in a moment, telling herself that three untouched weeks lay ahead of her. Her head reeled suddenly with fatigue: it was certainly time she went to bed. Robin reported that the moth had flown into the creeper.
Yet when, after saying good night all round, she was at length lying in the darkness, hearing nothing but tiny unfamiliar sounds from the trees outside and from other rooms in the house, she found she was not ready to sleep. Her thoughts were like a tangle of live wires: she would choose one and try to follow it to its source, but almost immediately she would be swept away again by one travelling in the opposite direction. Any circumstance she picked on changed disconcertingly to something else. Her mind was like a puzzle in which many silver balls have to be shaken into their sockets; it was her thoughts that were rolling free, and she moved her head from side to side as if to settle them. Then, abruptly, she succeeded: and her uneasiness faded as she knew what she was thinking.
When was Robin going to start behaving naturally?
So far he had stood insipidly upon his party-manners, even when they had been alone, as if playing at grown-ups . When would he drop that, and be more friendly, and put her at her ease?
Because she had nearly stifled herself trying to be polite, none of the visit so far seemed quite real. It was all a little insincere, like a school prizegiving. The parents, of course, might always behave like that. But Robin seemed to have taken his cue from them, so that she had now met all four of them, one after another, and was left with the absurd feeling that the most important person, her real friend, had not yet appeared. There seemed nothing in their greetings so far to warrant their inviting her so many expensive miles. They welcomed her undramatically, even casually, as if she had come from the next village. She found this a disappointment.
Was he, perhaps, shy? She pondered on his face, which she already knew well, and his attitude. It was impossible to think that. And she could not accuse him of being bored with her, either, because his attention was always on her and his manner was solicitous. Really, he acted as if he had long ago made up his mind about her, and had brought about this meeting simply in order to check and correct one or two trifling points. There was no constraint in his manner at all.
Then why should she assume he was not behaving naturally?
This was a facer.
Oh, because he just couldn’t be. He was only her own age. It couldn’t be natural for anyone of sixteen to behave like a Prince Regent and foreign ambassador combined. It just wasn’t possible. Besides, if (ghastly thought!) by the thousandth chance it was natural, it would mean that he would never have asked her. They would be so entirely opposite in every way that—— And again to be soindependent, yet so gracious—and Robin’s movements were always beautifully finished and calm—well, it would mean that people , mere
Robin bestirred himself, and examined the immobile wings spread in the rose-coloured light on the ceiling. “It certainly is,” he said. “Isn’t there a duster somewhere on the bookcase? Can I stand on this chair?”
“Put a paper on it first.”
“Be careful,” said Jane. Robin looked round at her with amusement. “It’s quite furry,” he reported. “Have you suddenly taken a fancy to them?”
“You can handle it carefully.”
“Yes, dear, don’t crush it,” said Mrs. Fennel. “Gather it up firmly but gently. Put it out of the window.”
They all watched while Robin’s head and reaching hands shut out the light, and Mr. Fennel looked up resignedly as the shadow fell across his paper. Katherine felt that at this moment it was at last natural for her to be there, yet at the same time there was no intimacy among them: the whole thing resembled a scene in a hotel lounge. But she dismissed the comparison in a moment, telling herself that three untouched weeks lay ahead of her. Her head reeled suddenly with fatigue: it was certainly time she went to bed. Robin reported that the moth had flown into the creeper.
Yet when, after saying good night all round, she was at length lying in the darkness, hearing nothing but tiny unfamiliar sounds from the trees outside and from other rooms in the house, she found she was not ready to sleep. Her thoughts were like a tangle of live wires: she would choose one and try to follow it to its source, but almost immediately she would be swept away again by one travelling in the opposite direction. Any circumstance she picked on changed disconcertingly to something else. Her mind was like a puzzle in which many silver balls have to be shaken into their sockets; it was her thoughts that were rolling free, and she moved her head from side to side as if to settle them. Then, abruptly, she succeeded: and her uneasiness faded as she knew what she was thinking.
When was Robin going to start behaving naturally?
So far he had stood insipidly upon his party-manners, even when they had been alone, as if playing at grown-ups . When would he drop that, and be more friendly, and put her at her ease?
Because she had nearly stifled herself trying to be polite, none of the visit so far seemed quite real. It was all a little insincere, like a school prizegiving. The parents, of course, might always behave like that. But Robin seemed to have taken his cue from them, so that she had now met all four of them, one after another, and was left with the absurd feeling that the most important person, her real friend, had not yet appeared. There seemed nothing in their greetings so far to warrant their inviting her so many expensive miles. They welcomed her undramatically, even casually, as if she had come from the next village. She found this a disappointment.
Was he, perhaps, shy? She pondered on his face, which she already knew well, and his attitude. It was impossible to think that. And she could not accuse him of being bored with her, either, because his attention was always on her and his manner was solicitous. Really, he acted as if he had long ago made up his mind about her, and had brought about this meeting simply in order to check and correct one or two trifling points. There was no constraint in his manner at all.
Then why should she assume he was not behaving naturally?
This was a facer.
Oh, because he just couldn’t be. He was only her own age. It couldn’t be natural for anyone of sixteen to behave like a Prince Regent and foreign ambassador combined. It just wasn’t possible. Besides, if (ghastly thought!) by the thousandth chance it was natural, it would mean that he would never have asked her. They would be so entirely opposite in every way that—— And again to be soindependent, yet so gracious—and Robin’s movements were always beautifully finished and calm—well, it would mean that people , mere
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