‘Have you!’ she said. ‘And what did he say?’
‘He said I ought to have done it before – that may be a difficulty. But since I was in the army – he thinks it’ll go through all right. – If only it doesn’t bring her down on my head!’
‘Will she have to know?’
‘Yes! She is served with a notice: so is the man she lives with, the co-respondent—’
‘Isn’t it hateful, all the performances! I suppose I’d have to go through it with Clifford—’
There was a silence.
‘And of course,’ he said, ‘I have to live an exemplary life for the next six or eight months. So if you go to Venice, there’s temptation removed for a week or two, at least.’
‘Am I temptation!’ she said, stroking his face. ‘I’m so glad I’m temptation to you! – Don’t let’s think about it! You frighten me when you start thinking: you roll me out flat. Don’t let’s think about it. We can think so much when we’re apart. That’s the whole point! – I’ve been thinking, I must come to you for another night before I go. I must come once more to the cottage. Shall I come on Thursday night?’
‘Isn’t that when your sister will be there?’
‘Yes! But she said we’d start at tea-time. So we could start at tea-time. But she could sleep somewhere else, and I could sleep with you.’
‘But then she’d have to know.’
‘Oh, I shall tell her. I’ve more or less told her already. I must talk it all over with Hilda: she’s a great help, so sensible.’
He was thinking of her plan.
‘So you’d start off from Wragby at tea-time, as if you were going to London? Which way were you going?’
‘By Nottingham and Grantham.’
‘And then your sister would drop you somewhere, and you’d walk or drive back here? Sounds very risky, to me.’
‘Does it? – Well then – well then, Hilda could bring me back. She could sleep at Mansfield, and bring me back here in the evening, and fetch me again in the morning. It’s quite easy.’
‘And the people who see you?’
‘I’ll wear goggles and a veil.’
He pondered for some time.
‘Well,’ he said, ‘you please yourself, as usual.’
‘But wouldn’t it please you?’
‘Oh yes! It’d please me all right,’ he said, a little grimly. ‘I might as well smite while the iron’s hot.’
‘Do you know what I thought?’ she said suddenly. ‘It suddenly came to me. You are the “Knight of the Burning Pestle”.’
‘Ay! And you? Are you the Lady of the Red-hot Mortar?’
‘Yes!’ she said. ‘Yes! You’re Sir Pestle and I’m Lady Mortar.’
‘All right – then I’m knighted. John Thomas is Sir John, to your Lady Jane.’
‘Yes! John Thomas is knighted! I’m my-lady-maidenhair, and you must have flowers too. Yes!’
She threaded two pink campions in the bush of red-gold hair above his penis.
‘There!’ she said. ‘Charming! Charming! Sir John!’