A small cheerful fire burned on the hearth. Althea sat down on one side of it. Miss Silver, taking the opposite chair, lifted a gaily flowered knitting-bag from the low table beside her and took out a pair of knitting-needles upon one of which some rows of ribbing stood up like a frill. The colour was a pleasing shade of pink, and the completed garment would be one of a set of vests for Dorothy Silver’s little Tina, about two years old. There was something very soothing about this domestic occupation. Althea watched whilst Miss Silver inserted the second needle and began to knit, her hands held low in her lap after the continental manner.

Althea leaned forward and said,

‘I don’t know that way of knitting.’

Miss Silver smiled.

‘It was taught me when I was at school by a foreign governess. It is much easier and better than the English way. You do not have to loop the wool over the needle, and it is practically impossible to drop a stitch.’

‘I see.’ There was a pause before she said, ‘I mustn’t take up your time – but I don’t know how to begin. You see, if I talk to people I know, they will either be on one side or the other. They will have known all about it for years and their minds will be made up.’

The small nondescript coloured eyes out of which Miss Silver was regarding her were full of intelligence. She said,

‘Yes?’

‘But someone who hears about it for the first time…’ She broke off and her colour rose. ‘You do see what I mean, don’t you? It’s so difficult for anyone to be impartial when they have known you for years and years and years.’

Miss Silver continued to knit. The needles moved with incredible speed, but her voice did not hurry as she said,

‘Perhaps if you will tell me what is troubling you…’

Althea bit her lip.

‘Yes, I will. And I will try very hard to be fair. It isn’t easy when you are in a thing up to your neck, but I will try.’

Althea Graham was twenty-seven, but for the moment Miss Silver was reminded of the child who says, ‘I will be good.’ She smiled her reassuring smile.

‘Do not think too much of what you are going to say and of how you are going to say it. I shall get a clearer impression of the facts if you will allow yourself to be natural.’

Althea gripped the arms of her chair. They were not very comfortable to grip, because the yellow walnut of which they were made was carved with acanthus leaves. The edges of the leaves were quite sharp, and the one on the right cut into her palm and left a deep scored line there. She began to tell Miss Silver about Nicholas Carey.

‘He used to spend the holidays with an aunt who lived quite near. He is two years older than I am. I used to go round to their house a lot, and we went on bicycle rides together. It was like having a brother. Then we began to grow up. He had his military service to do, and he was abroad for two years. When he came back he got on to the staff of a weekly paper, the Janitor. He writes well, you know – differently. We went on going about together. He has some money of his own, and he had a car. We used to go out into the country – quite long runs. My mother was an invalid then, but she began not to like our going off together.’

Miss Silver looked across her busy needles and said,

‘Why?’

‘It took me away. She has always liked to have someone to do things for her.’ It was said simply and without bitterness. ‘When Nicholas wanted us to be engaged it upset her dreadfully, but we thought she would come round.’ There was quite a long pause before she went on to say, ‘She didn’t.’

Miss Silver said, ‘Dear me!’

Althea’s colour, which had faded, came up momentarily. She kept her voice steady with an effort.

‘We planned a cottage in the country. There was an old cousin who would have been glad to come and keep my mother company, but she wouldn’t even listen to our plans. She just cried until she made herself ill, and Dr Barrington said to give her time and she would come round. He said her heart wasn’t strong and if she went on as she was doing it would be very bad for her. We waited six months, and then we tried again, but the same thing happened. We said then that we would get a flat in Grove Hill – Nicholas would go up and down to town. But it wasn’t any use. Every time we brought the subject up she had a heart attack. Nicholas asked Dr Barrington what would happen if we just went ahead and got married, and he said he couldn’t answer for the consequences. Well, after two years we got to the point where we offered to take over the top floor of the house. Of course it wouldn’t have answered, but we were desperate. We – we – both cared a great deal.’ She jerked her head back and bit her lip again hard. ‘Of course I can see how it looked to her. She had got used to my being there to do all the odd jobs, and even if I had still been in the house it wouldn’t have been the same thing – there would have been Nicky to think of. But in the end he said he couldn’t go on.’ The familiar name slipped out on a failing breath. It was some time before she said, ‘There were the sort of scenes that tear you to bits – I don’t wonder my mother was ill. I said I would try to be fair. I think she really did believe that she hadn’t got long to live. She kept on saying couldn’t I stay with her for just the very little time that she had left. She used to cry, and hold my hand, and beg me not to leave her. I told Nicky I couldn’t marry him, and he went away.’ She stopped there and drew a long breath.

Miss Silver said,

‘And now he has come back again?’

Althea looked at her with a heartbreak in her eyes.

‘After five years. He said he wouldn’t write, and he didn’t. He said I would have to choose between him and my mother, and I had chosen. He went to all sorts of wild places. I didn’t know where he was, or what he was doing. His aunt sold her house and went down to Devonshire to live with a sister. After that I didn’t even know whether he was alive or dead. Then one day I picked up a copy of the Janitor on the railway bookstall. There was an article in it signed “Rolling Stone”, and I was sure that it was Nicholas who had written it. There were more articles – at irregular intervals. They were about the sort of places that are right off the map. They were odd and exciting, and brilliant. People began to talk about them and look out for them. When I read one I did know at least that he was alive when it was written. And then after five years he came back.’

Miss Silver’s gaze rested upon her compassionately. Althea said,

‘Five years is a long time. I didn’t know whether he would be the same person. I knew that I wasn’t. Being unhappy does things to you – it makes you dull. He never could do with people being dull. I didn’t feel as if there was anything left that he could possibly care about. But I did feel I had got to put up as good a show as I could.’ She took her hands off the arms of the chair. They were numb with the pressure that she had put on them. She folded them in her lap and felt the blood come tingling back. She said, ‘His aunt Emmy Lester had left a lot of his things in the attic of her house when she sold it to a cousin. Nicholas had to come down to sort them out. I didn’t think I should see him – I didn’t think he would want to see me. But he was at Mrs Justice’s cocktail party, and the minute we saw each other across the room it was just as if he hadn’t ever been away. I went out into the hall – I couldn’t trust myself. He came after me, and we went into Sophy’s little room and talked…’ Her voice stopped, her eyes remembered.

Miss Silver pulled on the pale pink ball in her knitting-bag. The silence had lasted quite a long time before she broke it.

‘And now?’

‘He wants me to marry him at once without saying anything to my mother. He has got a licence. I think we ought to tell her. But it will be the same thing all over again if we do.’