'I can't remember exactly what he said, said Miranda, 'but he seemed to think he might want to come back. He didn't seem at all sure. You know what Daddy is.

'But you must remember! said Ann. 'What did he say exactly? Please try to remember.

'How can I? said Miranda. 'I was so miserable. I am so miserable. Her voice was tearful.

'Dear, I'm so sorry! said Ann. She looked at the screwed up hostile little face and felt pangs of guilt and pity. She had not worked enough at measuring Miranda's suffering.

The white moth, who had been silent for some minutes, fell out of the lamp with singed wings. It writhed on the floor.

Miranda leaned over to look at it. 'Better kill it, she said. 'It won't fly again. What won't fly is better killed. Better dead than crawling. It's burnt its wings off.

Ann trod on the moth. It was a plump moth. She returned her attention to Miranda, who seemed revived by the incident and was looking singularly like her father.

Colder herself, Ann said, 'But you thought he seemed to think it at least conceivable that he might come back?

'Oh, certainly, said Miranda. 'He talked about coming back. She began to rearrange her bed with an air of casualness and tossed two dolls off on to the floor.

Ann walked to the window. The night was suffocating. She looked out into the darkness. A distant owl hooted throwing successive rings of sound out over the roosting birds of the Marsh. Outside a silent world waited for the conclusion of their interview. No lights could be seen, and even the stars seemed to be stifled in the dark velvety air. She looked out into the close black emptiness and her heart seemed like a bird ready to break from her breast and fly over the quiet Marsh, to Dungeness, to the sea.

She turned back to the little crumpled room and Miranda watching her. The cord twitched her back. She said, 'But if he doesn't come back and we do get divorced. Well, then I might think of another marriage. And I felt I should just say this to you, though it's something so vague and really unlikely. These were blundering incompetent words.

'Do be clear, said Miranda. 'Do you mean that you're thinking now of marrying someone in particular?

'Yes: 'Who?

'Felix Meecham.

'I see, said Miranda. She showed no surprise. She reached down for one of the dolls she had dislodged. 'Why are you suddenly so keen on Felix?

'It's not sudden, said Ann. 'Felix and I have been fond of each other for years. She felt a failure of control before the judging eyes. 'Did Daddy know about it?

'There was nothing to know! said Ann, exasperated with herself. She had dreadfully mismanaged the scene.

Miranda was silent, pursing her lips and jogging the doll before her. Does she believe me? thought Ann. I can't ask her. It suddenly seemed a new and horrible pain that Miranda, here, should have any misconceptions.

After a moment Miranda said, 'Of course you must please yourself. It's your life'.

'I just wanted to speak to you, said Ann. 'I don't want to surprise you or upset you. It sounded cold and awkward. She added, 'After all, you know Felix and you like him, and that's all to the good. But of course this is just a very vague possibility.

'I don't know him particularly, said Miranda. 'I've' hardly ever spoken to him. And I'm not sure that I like him.

'Oh, come!

'Daddy doesn't like him either, said Miranda. 'Perhaps he guessed: 'I've told you, there was nothing to guess!

Miranda raised her eyebrows to the doll.

Ann felt she must get out of the room or suffocate. The owl was hooting again. The wide open window seemed a menace, as if at any moment Randall might fly in through it like a bat, with a great spreading and folding of leathery wings.

As if catching her thought Miranda said. 'You know Daddy could, come home at any time. Any minute now we might hear a car.

They both listened, holding each other's eyes. The great silence seemed pregnant with sound as if the other listeners were holding their breath.

Ann felt herself near to panic. She went to the door. 'Well, let's see, shall we? We won't talk about it again. I've made too much of it, really. We'll see what Daddy wants. It was just something vaguely possible: As her hand strayed to the door handle something on the white shelves beside the door caught her eye. It was one of Miranda's dolls which had been transfixed through the middle by the German dagger and pinned to the shelf. Ann looked at the sinister little portent. 'Why have you murdered that poor creature?

'I was punishing it, said Miranda. 'It's an Assyrian torture. She pushed the bedclothes aside and began to get out of bed.

'A rather savage punishment. Don't get cold, dear. I'll say good night now. Don't be bothered by anything I said.

, Wait a minute, said Miranda. Boyish in her pyjamas, head thrown back, she faced her mother across the table. They were almost of a height.

'Whatever Daddy does it would make no difference.

'What do you mean?

'You can't get divorced in a church.

'Opinions differ about those things, said Ann. She felt fear, but with it a little anger and the stirring of will which was like a kind of joy.

'So you'd still be married to him, said Miranda, 'and he'd still be married to you. Suppose he wanted to come back later on? If you'd run off with someone else he wouldn't be able to. He might come back crying for you and looking for you and you wouldn't be there. But if you waited for him it would be all right. He would always have somewhere to come back to. This would always be his home really and if he were unhappy he could come back to it. She spoke vehemently and a thin speckled flush covered her face.

Ann was shaken. She said, turning the handle, 'Well, we'll see. She wanted to run. 'No, we won't see! said Miranda, her voice 'vibrating. 'Daddy will be unhappy, he will want to come back, I know it, we must wait for him! Her eyes filled with tears.

She reached out to the table and pulled something out of the heap and held it to her face. She began to shake with convulsive sobs. 'I love Daddy. No one must have his place. I don't want to be a step-daughter.

Ann moved towards her; as she moved she saw what it was that Miranda was holding. It was the white rabbit Joey, Randall's old toy. So Randall had not taken the animals after all. Miranda had simply moved them up to her own room. Randall had not taken them away. Ann's arms encircled Miranda and Joey; and as her own tears began to flow and as the bright multi-coloured head came to rest against her shoulder she felt herself with despair suddenly weakened, loosened, unbolted by her old love for Randall.

Chapter Thirty-One

FELIX brought the very dark blue Mercedes screeching to a halt. Its front wheels seemed to have got on to some sort of flower bed. He did not pause to investigate, but jumped out and looked up at the dark front of the house. There was no light in Ann's room, there was no light to be seen. Of course it was after midnight and Ann, whose ambiguous telegram he had received in London only two hours before, would doubtless be expecting him in the morning. He wondered what to do. He entered the glass porch, tried the front door and found it open.

He fumbled in the dark hall for the light switch and then stood looking about him in the rather dim illumination. The shabby hall, full of crouching furniture, looked sinister, a place through which a midnight agent might glide to make an arrest. Felix felt a sort of fright which was really fright of himself, fear of the fear he might, by his sudden silent entry, cause. Yet perhaps it was he himself who was the victim. He had not understood Ann's wire.

He went into the drawing-room, stepping softly, and turned on the lights. The room looked desolate as if it had not been occupied for weeks. It smelt musty. He turned an electric fire on. Sparks flew out of it and one bar seemed to be out of order. There was a smell of burning. He took off his coat. Of course he would not go and wake Ann. He would compose himself somehow, somewhere until the morning. He looked gloomily at the sofa which was long, but not long enough for him. Then he thought, what lunatic conventionality now bids me lie down and sleep when what I want to do is to seize Ann in my arms? He knew he would not sleep, he would lie in agony. His heart beat fiercely at the nearness of Ann, at the nearness of his fate. He stood there, his hands at his sides, a big quiet man, waiting and wondering.