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she and I got talking and she absolutely forgot the time, which was unforgivably stupid of her. The more she went on the more irritated he got, of course, and then she got more nervous, positively jumpy and crazy, and they were back in their vicious circle.
    I felt sorry for her and mad at him. I knew how he couldbe: If you showed the least weakness or nervousness he would take advantage of it (I guess that made him a natural bully, though there was another side to him). But I hadn’t come there to listen in on their difficult relationship. I wanted to tell him about Lindsay and Propinquity—to ask his advice maybe, or just to have someone close with whom to talk about it. And as soon as Barbara had gone to squeeze herself back in her outfit, I did tell him. He was outraged . He couldn’t believe his ears. He knew Lindsay was crazy but this beat everything. Not that he cared a damn about the house—in fact, he hated it, for being ugly-—but the idea of giving it away, giving away his children’s heritage, and on such a whim and for such a cause: He was speechless , he said. I must say, his reaction seemed to me very sane and natural; I felt justified, confirmed in my own common sense while everyone else appeared to have taken leave of theirs. When Manton was angry, his color rose high and his eyes glittered cold and blue. He looked what he was perhaps meant to be: a soldier, colonizer, man of action—quite magnificent really, and formidable. At that moment poor Barbara came in, in her ridiculous little short frock, and all his manly anger turned on her: “Do you really seriously believe,” he said, very slowly and drawling like an Englishman, “that I would be seen out dead with you in that ludicrous getup?” I could see her plump knees knocking together as she hastened to agree with him that she looked terrible. “Go and take it off,” he interrupted her. “We’re not going.” She pleaded for a bit, then burst into tears—not for herself but for him, for spoiling his evening. And in fact this would have been considered unforgivable, if he hadn’t already changed his own plans; but he had—my news had stirred him up, and he decided that he would drive me back to the country to see what was going on. Barbara was allowed to come and sat in the back, talking away happily.
    Here was a further complication in the house, and to explain it, I should say something of Manton’s relation to the rest of us. There is no need to talk about Manton and Lindsay: the less said there the better. And Manton and Michael—there was not much to be said there either, except that Manton was not cut out to be anyone’s father and especially not Michael’s. Over the years they had learned totolerate each other, which they did mainly by never seeing each other. Then there was Manton and Mrs. Schwamm—he was simply delighted to hear she was back, not only because she was such a terrific cook but because they had this thing about adoring one another. Manton was the type to make himself tremendously popular with any domestic staff, and they were always eager to do something extra for him; and that was how it was with him and Mrs. Schwamm—whom he alone was allowed to call Else, or even Elsie. Finally, Manton and Jean—well, that was better than one would have thought possible, considering how he was this very sexy man whose women had to be women, and she was what she was. But I think they were useful to each other. Jean kept Lindsay completely out of his hair, while he had put Lindsay off men forever—so Lindsay herself said, and in fact, on the very rare occasions when he was around, Lindsay simply clung to Jean, as for protection against him.
    So Manton entered this arena—only to be thrown at once because everything had changed beyond his recognition. I had tried to tell him something about the Rawul and his party, but it wasn’t possible