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Silent communications had already taken place between him and the headwaiter, because his face was prepared whimsically to accept her unsuitability for this restaurant. And all this because the weather had changed! A month ago, in another expensive dingy restaurant, she had been wearing, because of the heat, a slip-dress of black linen, and had been perfectly conformable-though much better dressed than anyone else in the restaurant.because they were over-dressed, being people who could not dress for the sun. Henry had been showing her off: slightly embarrassed, since her simplicity was challenging; and partly because, when the sun shines in England, a licence comes into power with it.
    He sat down. ‘My dear Martha, how very well you look.’
    ‘I know that my hair is wet: but I was not asked if I wanted to use the ladies-if they’ve got one at all.’
    This challenge caused him to send her a quick thoughtful look, before he looked past her head at some brown varnished wood and said: ‘I remember, about two years ago, my Aunt Maynard sent me a protégée-from Cape Town I think she was. She was very combative you know.’
    ‘My problem is, what part of Rome is one going to choose to combat? ’
    ‘Hmm, ’ he said.
    ‘And I had no idea Aunt Maynard’s fief extended as far as Cape Town.’
    Oh, one of those places.’
    Martha sat checking herself like an engine: had she eaten, had she slept, was she over-tired-no, no, yes: because her flare of anger was really so very strong. That aspect of ‘Matty’ which was brought into being by Henry was pure childish aggression. If she chose and was in control enough not to be aggressive or show hostility, then ‘Matty’ was bumbling, charming-apologetic by implication. She preferred aggression: it was a step better than the infant clown.
    Henry was looking past Martha at a man who had just come in. He was like Henry; all open good looks, charm, assurance. He smiled at Henry, and was about to come forward, but Henry smiled differently, and the man sat down behind a menu-sheet across the room.
    ‘Your partner? ’
    His look was very quick now: ‘Yes.’
    ‘You had asked him to look me over, but you find I’m not lookoverable at the moment, so you’ve radared him that you’d rather he didn’t? ’
    ‘He was going to eat here in any case: why shouldn’t I want him to meet you? ’
    ‘Ah, but why not now? ’
    Here came the waiter with the card which he held before Martha.She ordered some pâté and the fish, but Henry said: ‘If you’ll take my advice, the coquille is excellent. Not, of course, that their pâté isn’t.’ Here he offered a small humorous grimace to the grey old waiter, who accepted it.
    ‘Of course, ’ she said, and changed her order.
    She asked for a dry sherry. The wine waiter brought a bottle of semi-sweet sherry, because in such places a lady would be expected to drink sweet sherry. Henry was given an Amontillado.
    She drank hers. He drank his.
    ‘Martha, have you heard from your mother? ’
    Martha noted how this ancient goad to rage now had no effect on her at all: by putting several thousands of miles of sea between her and her mother she was saved? H’mmmm-possibly.
    ‘No, but I expect I shall.’
    ‘You said you thought of taking a job? ’
    ‘I had one in a pub down by the docks.’
    ‘Ever such a lark of course-but not for long surely? ’
    ‘I’ve also been offered the job as a secretary for a firm which hires out lorries.’ In one of the lorries Iris’s cousin worked: the man she had intended for Martha.
    He waited. She would not help him.
    ‘You’d be living near your work? ’
    Almost she said: ‘Why not? ’ But lost interest. What was the use?
    Here came the scallop shells filled with lumps of cod covered with a cheese-coloured white sauce. That this was a restaurant where people ate, not to eat well, but to eat conformably she had understood from what she had seen on the plates near her; and she knew that when she