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Ambrosio? Some polysyllabic saint.’
    ‘Wasn’t it nice? And wasn’t she charming? And weren’t we relieved that she was charming?’
    ‘It was so nice of her to smile at us on the way out.’
    ‘Brides should always be beautiful, if they insist on getting married like this. For the sake of the guests. I must say that old Louise is certainly doing her stuff.’
    ‘Yes, she is isn’t she?’
    ‘She looks wonderful.’
    ‘That’s all very well,’ I said, ‘but I don’t think it’s very dignified, really, all this to-do. I mean to say, not for someone like her.’
    ‘Oh, if you go by appearances . . . ’
    ‘I’d much rather get married in a registry office. Wouldn’t you? Or rather didn’t you?’
    ‘Yes, we did,’ said Gill, curtly. ‘Yes, of course we did.’ Not being stupid, I quickly noticed that something was amiss, and said, ‘Why, what’s the matter, is something the matter with Tony? He’s here all right, isn’t he?’
    ‘Oh, yes, he’s somewhere around here,’ she said. ‘I think I’ve noticed him around somewhere.’
    ‘What do you mean?’
    ‘Oh, didn’t you know?’ she said, coldly but appealingly. ‘Didn’t you know that Tony and I had separated?’
    I hadn’t known, obviously, and was completely taken aback: they were the last couple in the world about whom I would have sensed any unease or catastrophe. They were everything that Stephen and Louise weren’t, spontaneous, happy, comprehensible and so forth. I was appalled.
    ‘How awful,’ I said, glad that at least I knew her well enough to ask her what had happened instead of retreating in confusion from my
faux pas
. ‘How entirely awful, what on earth happened? I thought you were both so wonderful . . . ’
    ‘That’s what we thought too,’ she said, with an odd little smile, that turned into a grimace: she has a coarse-featured face, very mobile and gay, and all her expressions give away everything. ‘Oh yes, that’s what we thought too. But I don’t think we think so any longer.’
    ‘What happened? When did it happen?’
    ‘Oh, months ago 1 Months ago. I can’t believe you don’t know about it. I thought everyone knew. I was amazed when your mother sent the invitation to both of us together.’
    ‘Oh, she wouldn’t know anything. I suppose I didn’t hear because of working for exams, and then I went to Paris at the end of term.’
    ‘Oh yes, I heard you were in Paris. I had a letter from Simone, she said she’d met you on the Gare du Nord. And congratulations on your degree, we were terribly impressed . . . ’
    ‘Oh nonsense. Don’t be silly. Haven’t you seen Louise recently in town? I’d have thought she might have told me about you.’
    ‘I haven’t seen her for months. Certainly not since I left Tony. She mixes with frightfully smart people now, you know. What was Paris like, Sarah?’
    ‘Oh, it was fun really. Pointless. But fun. Don’t let’s talk about Paris, tell me about you.’
    ‘Oh, I don’t know what to say about it really . . . I don’t know how it happened. It was so odd . . . we seemed to be getting on fine at first, just a sort of prolonged Oxford but with London instead—and then we started to quarrel. It sounds so silly. We used to quarrel a lot before, but nothing like this. It’s so sordid, quarrelling. We used to quarrel about such stupid things like money and food . . . and then he was painting all the time and he seemed to think that I ought to be happy just sitting around in the nude and letting him paint me, and cooking him the odd meal. And it got so bloody cold, posing, especially when they cut the electricity off and the fire wouldn’t work. Oh it was awful. I wanted to do things too, I didn’t like just waiting on him. I kept saying, “You could pay someone to do that.” Which wasn’t in fact true of course because he hadn’t any money, but then I thought facts counted less than principles and it was the principle of the