And, as Walden learned more about Germany-its industry, its government, its army, its natural resources-he realized that it had every chance of replacing Britain as the most powerful nation in the world. Personally he did not much mind whether Britain was first, second or ninth, so long as she was free. He loved England. He was proud of his country. Her industry provided work for millions, and her democracy was a model for the rest of the world. Her population was becoming more educated, and following that process, more of her people had the vote. Even the women would get it sooner or later, especially if they stopped breaking windows. He loved the fields and the hills, the opera and the music hall, the frenetic glitter of the metropolis and the slow, reassuring rhythms of country life. He was proud of her inventors, her playwrights, her businessmen and her craftsmen. England was a damn good place, and it was not going to be spoiled by square-headed Prussian invaders, not if Walden could help it.

He was worried because he was not sure he could help it. He wondered just how far he really understood modern England, with its anarchists and suffragettes, ruled by young firebrands like Churchill and Lloyd George, swayed by even more disruptive forces such as the burgeoning Labor Party and the ever-more-powerful trade unions. Walden’s kind of people still ruled-the wives were Good Society and the husbands were the Establishment-but the country was not as governable as it had used to be. Sometimes he had a terribly depressing feeling that it was all slipping out of control.

Charlotte came in, reminding him that politics was not the only area of life in which he seemed to be losing his grip. She was still wearing her tea gown. Walden said: “We must go soon.”

“I’ll stay at home, if I may,” she said. “I’ve a slight headache.”

“There’ll be no hot dinner, unless you warn Cook quickly.”

“I shan’t want it. I’ll have a tray in my room.”

“You look a little pale. Have a small glass of sherry; it’ll give you an appetite.”

“All right.”

She sat down and he poured the drink for her. As he gave it to her he said: “Annie has a job and a home, now.”

“I’m glad,” she replied coldly.

He took a deep breath. “It must be said that I was at fault in that affair.”

“Oh!” Charlotte said, astonished.

Is it so rare for me to admit that I’m in the wrong? he wondered. He went on: “Of course, I didn’t know that her… young man… had run off and she was ashamed to go to her mother. But I should have inquired. As you quite rightly said, the girl was my responsibility.”

Charlotte said nothing, but sat beside him on the sofa and took his hand. He was touched.

He said: “You have a kind heart, and I hope you’ll always stay that way. Might I also be permitted to hope that you will learn to express your generous feelings with a little more… equanimity?”

She looked up at him. “I’ll do my best, Papa.”

“I often wonder whether we’ve protected you too much. Of course, it was your mama who decided how you should be brought up, but I must say I agreed with her nearly all the time. There are people who say that children ought not to be protected from, well, what might be called the facts of life; but those people are very few, and they tend to be an awfully coarse type.”

They were quiet for a while. As usual, Lydia was taking forever to dress for dinner. There was more that Walden wanted to say to Charlotte, but he was not sure he had the courage. In his mind he rehearsed various openings, none of which was less than acutely embarrassing. She sat with him in contented silence, and he wondered whether she had some idea of what was going on in his mind.

Lydia would be ready in a moment. It was now or never. He cleared his throat. “You’ll marry a good man, and together with him you’ll learn about all sorts of things that are mysterious and perhaps a little worrying to you now.” That might be enough, he thought; this was the moment to back down, to duck the issue. Courage! “But there is one thing you need to know in advance. Your mother should tell you, really, but somehow I think she may not, so I shall.”

He lit a cigar, just to have something to do with his hands. He was past the point of no return. He rather hoped Lydia would come in now to put a stop to the conversation; but she did not.

“You said you know what Annie and the gardener did. Well, they aren’t married, so it was wrong. But when you are married, it’s a very fine thing to do indeed.” He felt his face redden and hoped she would not look up just now. “It’s very good just physically, you know,” he plunged on. “Impossible to describe, perhaps a bit like feeling the heat from a coal fire… However, the main thing is, the thing I’m sure you don’t realize, is how wonderful the whole thing is spiritually. Somehow it seems to express all the affection and tenderness and respect and… well, just the love there is between a man and his wife. You don’t necessarily understand that when you’re young. Girls especially tend to see only the, well, coarse aspect; and some unfortunate people never discover the good side of it at all. But if you’re expecting it, and you choose a good, kind, sensible man for your husband, it’s sure to happen. So that’s why I’ve told you. Have I embarrassed you terribly?”

To his surprise she turned her head and kissed his cheek. “Yes, but not as much as you’ve embarrassed yourself,” she said.

That made him laugh.

Pritchard came in. “The carriage is ready, my lord, and my lady is waiting in the hall.”

Walden stood up. “Not a word to Mama, now,” he murmured to Charlotte.

“I’m beginning to see why everybody says you’re such a good man,” Charlotte said. “Enjoy your evening.”

“Good-bye,” he said. As he went out to join his wife he thought: Sometimes I get it right, anyway.

After that, Charlotte almost changed her mind about going to the suffragette meeting.

She had been in a rebellious mood, following the Annie incident, when she saw the poster stuck to the window of a jeweler’s shop in Bond Street. The headline VOTES FOR WOMEN had caught her eye; then she had noticed that the hall in which the meeting was to be held was not far from her house. The notice did not name the speakers, but Charlotte had read in the newspapers that the notorious Mrs. Pankhurst often appeared at such meetings without prior warning. Charlotte had stopped to read the poster, pretending (for the benefit of Marya, who was chaperoning her) to be looking at a tray of bracelets. As she was reading, a boy came out of the shop and began to scrape the poster off the window. There and then Charlotte decided to go to the meeting.

Now Papa had shaken her resolution. It was a shock to see that he could be fallible, vulnerable, even humble; and even more of a revelation to hear him talk of sexual intercourse as if it were something beautiful. She realized that she was no longer raging inwardly at him for allowing her to grow up in ignorance. Suddenly she saw his point of view.

But none of that altered the fact that she was still horribly ignorant, and she could not trust Mama and Papa to tell her the whole truth about things, especially about things like suffragism. I will go, she decided.

She rang the bell for Pritchard and asked for a salad to be brought up to her room; then she went upstairs. One of the advantages of being a woman was that no one ever cross-questioned you if you said you had a headache: women were supposed to have headaches every now and then.

When the tray came, she picked at the food for a while, until the time came when the servants would be having their supper; then she put on a hat and coat and went out.

It was a warm evening. She walked quickly toward Knightsbridge. She felt a peculiar sense of freedom, and realized that she had never before walked the streets of a city unaccompanied. I could do anything, she thought. I have no appointments and no chaperone. Nobody knows where I am. I could have dinner in a restaurant. I could catch a train to Scotland. I could take a room in a hotel. I could ride on an omnibus. I could eat an apple in the street, and drop the core in the gutter.