'Now, Penny, you really must be off! said Ann. She put aside the blue-and-white check dress of feather-weight cotton which she was sewing for Miranda, pushed her loose loops of faded hair back behind her ears, and made a mock-stern face at Penn. He got up laughing and protesting..

'Well, well, my friends, I must go too, said Douglas Swann. 'Penn shall set me an example! Weakness of will, that's our trouble, eh Penn? Up and away! He rose too.

Swann was a good-looking man with a sallow face of great smoothness which seemed not to know of the razor. Into the smooth mask, the colour of honeysuckle, a pair of narrow dark eyes and a thin dry clearly outlined mouth had been let, as it were by an after-thought, so little were they, by any puckering or wrinkling of the surface, worked into their surroundings. His very dark hair, lacquered with hair oil, was combed in a neat crust over his brow. He had, with his rather smart black suit and crisp dog-collar, a professional air of slightly self-conscious benevolence, a sort, as it were, of clinically compassionate stoop. Yet, and this too Hugh had had occasion to remark, although the context for thinking him an ass was almost completely there, the judgement could not quite be made: the elusive but indubitable light of intelligence flickering in that mild visage forbade any too casual dismissal of its owner.

Penn, tossing his dry mouse-locks, his small perky face animated with argument and affection, was still disputing with Ann, one foot on the coke bucket, one hand in the pocket of his dark grey English purchased flannels, pushing back his blue school blazer to reveal, hanging from his belt by two metal chains, a leather sheath containing a dagger.

'That's a dangerous weapon! said Douglas Swann, pointing to the dagger.

Penn blushed and removed his foot from the coke and pulled his blazer down.

Ann said, 'Good heavens, that German dagger! Did you find it in Steve's room?

'Yes, said Penn, distressed. 'Is that alright?

'Why, yes, of course, said Ann. 'But how clever of you to find it.

Felix Meecham gave it to Steve. Felix got it during the war sometime. And Miranda was very keen on it and kept asking Steve to give it to her, but he never would. Then when — we couldn't find it, though Miranda looked endlessly.

'Oh, I'll give it to Miranda! said Penn. 'Well, of course, it's hers anyway. I'm so sorry — He was still blushing and trying to detach the dagger from his belt.

'No, no, certainly not! said Ann. 'You keep it! Miranda's forgotten all about it by now. It's more a boy's thing anyhow. Now off you go, Penny, this very instant!

The door closed behind him, and Douglas Swann sat down again, having evidently changed his mind about going.

'I thought it was a horrible thing, that dagger, said Ann. 'It's beautifully made of course, but it's got a swastika on the hilt. Felix said it belonged to a German officer. They used to wear daggers, some of them, to show off with. The whole idea is so repulsive. One never stops loathing Hitler, and the sight of that black object with the swastika on it — it's enough to make one feel quite sick!

'The young are not touched by this, said Douglas Swann. He was sorting the dominoes into neat piles.

'No, I suppose not, said Ann. 'It's a rather disconcerting aspect of their innocence. I never know whether one should teach them to hate Hitler or not.

'Of course one should, said Hugh.

'I'm not so sure, said Swann. 'There's enough hatred in the world already. Only love has clear vision. Hatred has cloudy vision. When we hate we know not what we do.

'Are you suggesting that we should love Hitler? said Hugh. He felt irritated with Swann and wished he would go.

'Not exactly, said Swann. 'That would be, from the point of view of our generation, an impossible task, except perhaps for a saint. But there can be, even for Hitler, a sort of intelligent compassion. Involuntary hatred is a great misfortune, but cultivated hatred is a positive evil. The young have escaped the terrible compulsion to hate which has been our lot. They should be left uncorrupted and judged lucky.

'I can't agree, said Hugh. 'It's a matter of practical politics. You speak as if we were in fact all saints. As the world runs, evil soon makes tools out of those who don't hate it. Hatred is our best protection.

' Would you like some coffee, Douglas, before you go? said Ann. Douglas Swann rose again, accepting his dismissal. 'No thank you, Ann, I must run. Talk about weakness of will! Oh, I forgot to say, Clare wants to know if you're going in for the flower-arrangement competition this year. She said she hoped so much you would, as without you the women get no idea of the standard.

Ann laughed. 'Perhaps, if I feel strong enough. Give my love to Clare. And thank her for the quince jelly.

Douglas Swann lingered, his Ann on the back of Ann's chair, his smooth golden face bland and tender above the stiff dog-collar. The Aga cooker purred. The blue cherubs smiled. Hugh looked at his watch.

The kitchen door burst open and swung back to strike the wall with a noise like a pistol shot and Randall entered. Douglas Swann jumped away from Ann with as much alacrity as if he'd been caught kissing her. Ann half rose and then sat back again.

Randall, seeing Swann there, paused abruptly on the threshold and glared at him. Then he held the door open. Swann murmured that he must be off and shot past Randall through the doorway. The door banged behind him. It was not a dignified exit.

Randall was unshaven and in shirt sleeves. His shirt ballooned out over his trousers in the front, giving him a false paunch which made him look more than usually like an actor. His face was flushed. He advanced to the table and stared at Ann.

Hugh said, 'Sit down, Randall, and stop looking like Banquo's ghost. At such a moment he feared his son.

Randall said to Ann, 'Must we have that bloody priest infesting the house all the time?

Ann sat well back in her chair, stretching her hands out on the Anns as if to calm herself with deliberation. She gave him back his stare. 'He's not a bloody priest, and he doesn't infest the house. He came over to see Penny.

'He came over to see you, said Randall, 'as you bloody well know.

Not that I care a fuck.

'Sit down, Randall, said Hugh, 'and don't shout!

'I'm not shouting, said Randall, 'and I'm NOT DRUNK, in case it should occur to anyone to suggest it I'

'You are drunk, said Ann, Hugh knew that Ann was capable of anger, but he was surprised by the readiness with which she produced it now. If Randall had prepared himself, by his own version of prayer and fasting, for this scene, so doubtless had she.

«Why did you give all Steve's things to Penn? said Randall. He lowered his voice, but Hugh could see now that he was shivering with rage. His lips trembled and in a slower rhythm his hands opened and closed.

'I didn't give all Steve's things to Penn. I told him he could look through the cupboard to see if there was anything there that might amuse him. Ann was dead white and with her colourless hair swept back her face was naked and strong. She clutched the Anns of the chair and kept her voice low.

'We mustn't call you a liar, must we? said Randall. 'Miranda saw Penn taking armfuls of stuff out of Steve's room this afternoon. He leaned forwards, his pendant shirt brushing the dominoes, his eyes bulging, his large hands spread out on the table.

'Well, why not? said Ann. 'Why shouldn't someone enjoy those things? Steve wouldn't have minded.

'It didn't occur to you that Miranda might mind, that I might mind?

'If you'd been about I might have asked you, said Ann. 'You weren't About. She was quiet, but quivering taut.

'You could have asked Miranda.

'Look here, said Ann, 'why ever should I? What I did was perfectly proper. God knows, we've given Penny a rotten enough time. I had no need to consult anyone.