now. To the old and last truth then she must be faithful even though cynicism and mockery took place at the bottom of her soul.

‘I am so glad to see you,’ she said to Ursula, in her slow voice, that was like an incantation. ‘You and Rupert have become quite friends?’

‘Oh yes,’ said Ursula. ‘He is always somewhere in the background.’

Hermione paused before she answered. She saw perfectly well the other woman’s vaunt: it seemed truly vulgar.

‘Is he?’ she said slowly, and with perfect equanimity. ‘And do you think you will marry?’

The question was so calm and mild, so simple and bare and dispassionate that