The Red And The Green by Iris Murdoch Page B

somehow clearly ‘impossible’ for Christopher to save Millie without marrying her.
    Although the idea that there was only one solution had been taking shape over a period of months, as Millie’s financial affairs went into the final phases of collapse, it was only in the last four weeks or so that Christopher had used explicitly the words which named his intention. This had happened during scenes in which Millie would say desperately, ‘I’ll sell this house and Rathblane and go into lodgings,’ and Christopher would say, ‘Don’t be foolish. You know you can’t face it. You’ll marry me and everything will be all right.’ Then Millie would laugh loudly, say, ‘It looks as if I’ll have to!’ and change the subject. It was true that Millie could not face it, that she would in the end do anything rather than face it; and meanwhile she played a little for time.
    This period of their relationship had had, for Christopher, a special rather sad charm. Millie had been of late, even in the last year, more subdued, less boisterous. It was not that she seemed older or positively melancholy, but her beauty wore a sort of gauzy veil which perhaps only he could see. She was less rowdy and her gaiety sometimes seemed ‘switched on’, an effort, and she was often thoughtful. Christopher had her cornered, and she knew it. She used now her resources of irony and humour to cover the loss of her dignity as a free being. She seemed without resentment. There was something beautiful and sad in this loss of power which made him feel very tenderly towards her. It was like a stage in taming a wild beast when it becomes suddenly gentle and puss-like. It plunges far off, but feels the rope that draws and draws it. Now it trots more soberly near by. Soon it will come to the hand. It will have to.
    This was how Christopher saw it most of the time; but there were moments of uneasiness when he felt that the closer he came to her the more likely it was that Millie might suddenly bolt. He would have been prepared to let her decide very slowly indeed. He rather enjoyed his state of undeclared sovereignty. But financial pressures set the pace and Millie herself seemed increasingly anxious to settle her fate although she still avoided any clear commitment; while Christopher, who had intended not to press her, could not now prevent himself from advancing upon her as the situation itself relentlessly advanced. No, he did not really think that she could escape him. Yet with a woman like Millie one never knew. She was used to doing things on the hunting field which seemed equivalent to suicide; and although she was probably incapable of facing poverty, she was not incapable of pulling the house down, of provoking some total catastrophe on the assumption that the world was going to end immediately.
    â€˜Have some of your special cider and sherry mixture,’ said Millie. ‘I’ve got some here in a jug.’
    â€˜Thanks.’ Christopher was partial to a mixture of two parts of Tio Pepe to one part of dry cider.
    She released the glass into his fingers, but kept her hand lightly resting against his, looking down at him. The purple silk brushed his knee.
    â€˜You look Chinese today, Millie. It must be the dress.’
    â€˜Good. I shall need all my inscrutability for dealing with you.’
    She suddenly laughed and moved away. ‘Do you know, poor dear Hilda, I was watching her at tea. I think she thinks she’s got you hooked.’
    Christopher laughed too. ‘Not hooked, no. She pictures us as two ancient craft driven by the storms of fortune into the selfsame anchorage!’
    â€˜When is Frances getting married?’
    Christopher drew a quiet breath. Millie’s jumpy nervy mood both frightened and exhilarated him. How endlessly she must have thought about Frances. Yet the name was rarely mentioned between them. ‘Soon.’
    â€˜How soon?’
    â€˜I