When the coast was clear, she went into the library and stood at the desk. There was something, she felt, waiting to pounce whenever she was inactive now. It was there in the landscape before her, lying there peaceful and self-contained, the indifferent sheep and the indifferent trees. It was alarming and soothing at the same time. It’s because, she thought, I’m on my own now. There is no one. I’m free. In the walled garden, she thought, Violet and Ian are entangled by their feelings, Violet warding him off, Ian trying to get under her armor. It was strange to discover that she did not mind. But just then she saw Charles coming down the road with his long easy stride, and the landscape came alive again and had a human element and this she could not resist. For she had, she realized now, been dreadfully lonely for the last ten minutes. In a second she was out of the door and on the terrace waving. Because she was free, because she was alone, she felt a deep drive towards everyone she loved simply. It was as if she only existed in the presence of others, anything else was still too frightening. She could not wait for Charles on the terrace—she must run to meet him, out of breath, smiling so much from so far off that she felt her mouth crack at the sides.

“Oh, Charles,” she said with a deep sigh, “oh, there you are.”

She stood before him smiling and smiling, and he stopped and smiled back.

“What’s happened?” he asked. “What’s the hurry?”

“Oh nothing—I saw you—”

“I’ve been up in the wood with the men.”

“I know.”

To be loved, she thought. She thought, safety. Charles saw the look in her eyes, so open, so wide-open and vulnerable, and a week ago this look would have made the blood pound through his body in exultation. A week ago he would have kissed her; he wouldn’t have been able to resist. But Charles too had changed, had grown, had passed into a new phase. It was not so much that he felt old now (he had felt old then when he imagined that he wanted her), but more that he saw her youth and all its implications and was moved by it for itself, as if she were his own child. He put an arm round her shoulder,

“It’s nearly lunch time. Where are the others?”