An Unofficial rose

Emma, although he now saw so much of her, remained obscure and still a little frightening. Emma was the centre-piece of the relationship, and it was here that the darkness was. Emma joined with Randall in flattering Lindsay, and with Lindsay in teasing Randall; but she was herself never either flattered or teased. She would sit there, rather plump in her flowery old-fashioned dresses, her short frizzy dark-grey hair standing out on either side of her sharp-nosed intelligent face, which seemed like that of a clever dog, and she would watch them with a morose benevolence, leaning forward on her silver-topped cane. F. rom the exact nature of the relation between Lindsay and Emma Randall's imagination shied away. But whenever they touched each other he felt the shock of the contact within himself. That too was pleasurable.

Sipping his tea, Randall contemplated Lindsay now, as she bent over her embroidery frame. She was wearing a green linen dress with a low square neck. The plaits of hair, with the docility of gold beaten into a close chain, coiled tightly about her head, emphasizing its roundness. The pain of physical desire, which was sometimes so sharp, was deliciously diffused now in an aching of his whole body. She raised her head and gave him a quiet solemn very conscious look. Emma was lost in a haze of cigarette smoke. The many clocks ticked in the quiet room. Randall was in heaven.

The situation often struck him in a strange way as an appeal to his intelligence, and this pleased could such a structure remain rigid; and at times he felt the sheer cleverness of Emma, Lindsay and himself, coiled like three great muscular snakes at the very centre of the edifice. Yet also love was its centre; and perhaps here cleverness was love. With the passion of the artist which he now increasingly felt himself to be he adored Lindsay's awareness, her exquisite sense of form, which was a sort of dignity of wit, a sense as it were of the movement and timing of life which made her like a great comedian. She was shapely and complete; and like a kaleidoscope, like a complex rose, her polychrome being fell into an authoritative pattern which proclaimed her free. With exhilaration Randall felt himself become light, light, able to rise at last into the airy world of the imagination, the world above the mess of morality, the world inhabited by those two angelic beings.

Yet there were weights. Randall could at times, in the midst of his curious enjoyment of his indulged frustration, feel a special gratitude to Emma for having so thoroughly 'swallowed' them. What, after all, could he have done, what would he have done? He could not have taken Lindsay away because, quite simply, he had not enough money. Some knowledge of her, which could not now be muted, told him that it would be idle to expect her to help him through some new begi

In any case, there was still A

Of course he had been monstrously unfair to A

'Ah, he said to them at last to end the silence, although they were often thus happily silent together, 'Whatever are you two like when I'm not here? How I should love to know that!

'Whatever it is: said Lindsay, looking at one of the clocks, 'we're going to be like it very soon, because we're going to throw you out. It's time for Emma's evening session, and I've got a pile of typing still. I don't want to be up all night.

'I shall be sleepless' said Randall, 'so think about me if you are!

‘You'll be sleeping soundly, Randall, my son' said Emma. 'And so will Lindsay, for I've no intention of letting her type after supper. Come here, little one, did you hear what I said? She caught Lindsay's hand as the girl moved past her, and looked intently up into her face.

'She's getting insubordinate and needs discipline!

'Well, we'll fight it out when Randall’s gone, shall we? said Lindsay, looking down at her friend with a tender rapacious expression.

Randall got up. They were still holding hands.

'One of these days, he said, 'I'll put Lindsay across my saddle and carry her away. He often said this..

Emma laughed. 'No, no, she said. 'I can't do without her! can't do without my gaiety girl. And I saw her first, after all! She pressed Lindsay's hand against her cheek and released it.

Randall picked up his hat. He said to Emma, 'My father saw you at the funeral. He asked me about you.

Emma was leaning forward to take the lid off her tape-recorder.

'Really?

'Yes, said Randall. He added, 'It wouldn't altogether surprise me if he were to turn up here one of these days.