dark passages were
polished oak, which, as Herbert had pointed out, obviated the need for carpets. The staircase was also oak – no carpet there, either, which made it slippery and a nightmare to negotiate with
heavy trays. The hall, with its huge, heavily-leaded window – too large to curtain – was somehow always freezing, even in summer, and dark, too, because here the oak had crept up the
walls to a height of about nine feet, making any ordinary furniture look ridiculous. There was also a tremendous stone fireplace in which one could have roasted an ox; and, as Oliver had pointed
out, nothing less would have done either to warm the place or to defeat the joyless odour of furniture polish. ‘It really is a monstrous house,’ she thought, and recognized this to be
what Dr Sedum had described in one of his ‘talks’ as a mechanical pattern reaction – something to be avoided if one was to evolve. But later on in the same talk he had said that
we were all liars because we were incapable of responding consistently to our environment, and then she didn’t know what to think. When she had asked Lavinia after the Time, as meetings were
called in the League, Lavinia had said that one could not start at all, until one had perceived the Paradox. She had only been to one Time, and when Lavinia had said that she must not try to walk
before she could fly, she realized that she had a long way to go.
The moment she got into the kitchen, Claude hoisted himself wearily out of the vegetable trug by the Aga and set about his usual process of tripping her up until she had provided him with his
early morning milk. This morning, she gave in to him at once; she wanted nothing to interfere with the clockwork routine which was to conclude with Herbert catching his train to London. She had
told him she was having a cousin to lunch several days ago, but he had been deep in some gardening manual, and she had not been sure whether he had heard.
Two hours later she waved to Herbert as he lurched down the drive in the old Wolseley. Alice had washed the car once a week before she had married, but it was one more of those things which May
simply didn’t seem to get time to do. A final wave – he would not have seen her, but he liked all his expeditions to be taken seriously – and she heaved at the huge iron-studded
front door until it shut with a prison-like click. There was a terrific amount to do before Dr Sedum and Lavinia arrived, but she was so exhausted with anxiety and the feeling that she was doing
something exciting and momentous behind Herbert’s back that she fled to the kitchen for a cup of coffee and a cigarette (Herbert did not like her to smoke in the mornings). ‘I’ll
make a list,’ she thought. She always resorted to lists: they proved that she had a great deal to do, and to some extent, as she crossed things off, they proved that she was doing them. Mrs
Green was coming this morning: she began with a list for Mrs Green. She had decided to entertain her guests entirely in what was called the morning room: by dint of transporting most of the
electric fires (the ones that were in working order, anyway) she could manage to get it tolerably cosy by one o’clock. There was a reasonable round table there; it wobbled rather on its
pedestal if one cut bread or made any other emphatic movements of that nature, but was otherwise suitable for lunch. The room was sternly bare: Herbert had not put much furniture there as he did
not use it, but she could collect bits and pieces from other rooms. Anyway, Dr Sedum probably appreciated austerity as long as it did not make him too uncomfortable. Lunch was to consist of
roast spring chicken, new potatoes and peas (safe food, surely, for such an occasion) and crème caramel, which she had got very good at as Herbert had been used to it in India. Mrs Green
could do the vegetables and clean the room; she would prepare the chicken, make the room as warm and nice as
polished oak, which, as Herbert had pointed out, obviated the need for carpets. The staircase was also oak – no carpet there, either, which made it slippery and a nightmare to negotiate with
heavy trays. The hall, with its huge, heavily-leaded window – too large to curtain – was somehow always freezing, even in summer, and dark, too, because here the oak had crept up the
walls to a height of about nine feet, making any ordinary furniture look ridiculous. There was also a tremendous stone fireplace in which one could have roasted an ox; and, as Oliver had pointed
out, nothing less would have done either to warm the place or to defeat the joyless odour of furniture polish. ‘It really is a monstrous house,’ she thought, and recognized this to be
what Dr Sedum had described in one of his ‘talks’ as a mechanical pattern reaction – something to be avoided if one was to evolve. But later on in the same talk he had said that
we were all liars because we were incapable of responding consistently to our environment, and then she didn’t know what to think. When she had asked Lavinia after the Time, as meetings were
called in the League, Lavinia had said that one could not start at all, until one had perceived the Paradox. She had only been to one Time, and when Lavinia had said that she must not try to walk
before she could fly, she realized that she had a long way to go.
The moment she got into the kitchen, Claude hoisted himself wearily out of the vegetable trug by the Aga and set about his usual process of tripping her up until she had provided him with his
early morning milk. This morning, she gave in to him at once; she wanted nothing to interfere with the clockwork routine which was to conclude with Herbert catching his train to London. She had
told him she was having a cousin to lunch several days ago, but he had been deep in some gardening manual, and she had not been sure whether he had heard.
Two hours later she waved to Herbert as he lurched down the drive in the old Wolseley. Alice had washed the car once a week before she had married, but it was one more of those things which May
simply didn’t seem to get time to do. A final wave – he would not have seen her, but he liked all his expeditions to be taken seriously – and she heaved at the huge iron-studded
front door until it shut with a prison-like click. There was a terrific amount to do before Dr Sedum and Lavinia arrived, but she was so exhausted with anxiety and the feeling that she was doing
something exciting and momentous behind Herbert’s back that she fled to the kitchen for a cup of coffee and a cigarette (Herbert did not like her to smoke in the mornings). ‘I’ll
make a list,’ she thought. She always resorted to lists: they proved that she had a great deal to do, and to some extent, as she crossed things off, they proved that she was doing them. Mrs
Green was coming this morning: she began with a list for Mrs Green. She had decided to entertain her guests entirely in what was called the morning room: by dint of transporting most of the
electric fires (the ones that were in working order, anyway) she could manage to get it tolerably cosy by one o’clock. There was a reasonable round table there; it wobbled rather on its
pedestal if one cut bread or made any other emphatic movements of that nature, but was otherwise suitable for lunch. The room was sternly bare: Herbert had not put much furniture there as he did
not use it, but she could collect bits and pieces from other rooms. Anyway, Dr Sedum probably appreciated austerity as long as it did not make him too uncomfortable. Lunch was to consist of
roast spring chicken, new potatoes and peas (safe food, surely, for such an occasion) and crème caramel, which she had got very good at as Herbert had been used to it in India. Mrs Green
could do the vegetables and clean the room; she would prepare the chicken, make the room as warm and nice as
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