‘Yes, I know it was what you expected. I can’t forgive myself for supplying it. Please let me go home, Richard. Open the door.’ She stood by it, waiting for him to let it open.

‘And you’re even laughing, at this awful pitiful mess.’

‘I’m laughing, as you know quite well, at the sight of one of the financial powers of this our great country dancing with rage like a child of three in the middle of his ever-so-expensive carpet. Please let me out, Richard.’

Richard with an effort took himself to his desk, pushed a button, and the door swung open.

‘If I were you, I’d wait a few months and offer Tommy a job here. A nice important one.’

‘You mean he’d be kind enough to accept it now? You’re crazy. He’s on a left-wing political kick, he and Marion, getting all hot under the collar about the wrongs of those poor bloody blacks at this very moment.’

‘Well well. Why not? It’s very fashionable. Didn’t you know? You just lack a sense of timing, Richard. You always did, you know. That’s not left-wing. That’s à la mode.’

‘You would have been pleased, I should have thought.’

‘Oh but I am. Remember what I said — if you handle things right, Tommy’ll be pleased to accept a job here. Probably take yours over.’

‘Well I’d be happy. You’ve always been wrong about me, Anna. I don’t really enjoy this racket. I want to retire, just as soon as I can, and go and live a quiet sort of life with Jean and perhaps have some more children. That’s what I’m planning to do. I wasn’t cut out for the financial racket.’

‘Except that you’ve quadrupled the holdings and profits of your empire since you took over, so Marion says. Good-bye, Richard.’

‘Anna.’

‘Well what is it?’

He had hastily moved around to stand between her and the half-open door. He now bumped it shut, with an impatient jerk of his buttocks. The contrast between this movement and the smooth invisibly managed machinery of the rich office, or display room, affected Anna like a reminder of her own discordant self as she stood there waiting to leave. She saw herself: small, pale, pretty, maintaining an intelligent and critical smile. She could feel herself, under this shape of order, as a chaos of discomfort and anxiety. That ugly little jerk of Richard’s well-clothed buttocks matched her own just-concealed turmoil; and therefore it was hypocrisy to feel distaste. Telling herself this, she felt, instead, exhaustion, and said: ‘Richard, I don’t see any use in this. Every time we meet it’s the same thing.’