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and quiet。 The proper study of mankind is books。〃
〃I sometimes think that it may be；〃 said Denis； he was wondering if
Anne and Gombauld were still dancing together。
〃Instead of which；〃 said Mr。 Wimbush； with a sigh； 〃I must go and see
if all is well on the dancing…floor。〃 They got up and began to walk
slowly towards the white glare。 〃If all these people were dead；〃 Henry
Wimbush went on； 〃this festivity would be extremely agreeable。 Nothing
would be pleasanter than to read in a well…written book of an open…air ball
that took place a century ago。 How charming！ one would say； how pretty
and how amusing！ But when the ball takes place to…day； when one finds
oneself involved in it； then one sees the thing in its true light。 It turns out
to be merely this。〃 He waved his hand in the direction of the acetylene
flares。 〃In my youth；〃 he went on after a pause； 〃I found myself； quite
fortuitously； involved in a series of the most phantasmagorical amorous
intrigues。 A novelist could have made his fortune out of them； and even
if I were to tell you； in my bald style； the details of these adventures； you
would be amazed at the romantic tale。 But I assure you； while they were
happeningthese romantic adventuresthey seemed to me no more and no
less exciting than any other incident of actual life。 To climb by night up a
rope…ladder to a second…floor window in an old house in Toledo seemed to
me； while I was actually performing this rather dangerous feat； an action
as obvious； as much to be taken for granted； ashow shall I put it？as
quotidian as catching the 8。52 from Surbiton to go to business on a
Monday morning。 Adventures and romance only take on their
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adventurous and romantic qualities at second…hand。 Live them； and they
are just a slice of life like the rest。 In literature they become as charming
as this dismal ball would be if we were celebrating its tercentenary。〃
They had come to the entrance of the enclosure and stood there； blinking
in the dazzling light。 〃Ah； if only we were！〃 Henry Wimbush added。
Anne and Gombauld were still dancing together。
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CHAPTER XXIX。
It was after ten o'clock。 The dancers had already dispersed and the
last lights were being put out。 To…morrow the tents would be struck； the
dismantled merry…go…round would be packed into waggons and carted
away。 An expanse of worn grass； a shabby brown patch in the wide
green of the park； would be all that remained。 Crome Fair was over。
By the edge of the pool two figures lingered。
〃No； no； no；〃 Anne was saying in a breathless whisper； leaning
backwards； turning her head from side to side in an effort to escape
Gombauld's kisses。 〃No； please。 No。〃 Her raised voice had become
imperative。
Gombauld relaxed his embrace a little。 〃Why not？〃 he said。 〃I
will。〃
With a sudden effort Anne freed herself。 〃You won't；〃 she retorted。
〃You've tried to take the most unfair advantage of me。〃
〃Unfair advantage？〃 echoed Gombauld in genuine surprise。
〃Yes； unfair advantage。 You attack me after I've been dancing for
two hours； while I'm still reeling drunk with the movement； when I've lost
my head； when I've got no mind left but only a rhythmical body！ It's as
bad as making love to someone you've drugged or intoxicated。〃
Gombauld laughed angrily。 〃Call me a White Slaver and have done
with it。〃
〃Luckily；〃 said Anne； 〃I am now completely sobered； and if you try
and kiss me again I shall box your ears。 Shall we take a few turns round
the pool？〃 she added。 〃The night is delicious。〃
For answer Gombauld made an irritated noise。 They paced off
slowly； side by side。
〃What I like about the painting of Degas。。。〃 Anne began in her most
detached and conversational tone。
〃Oh； damn Degas！〃 Gombauld was almost shouting。
From where he stood； leaning in an attitude of despair against the
parapet of the terrace； Denis had seen them； the two pale figures in a patch
of moonlight； far down by the pool's edge。 He had seen the beginning of
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what promised to be an endless passionate embracement； and at the sight
he had fled。 It was too much； he couldn't stand it。 In another moment；
he felt； he would have burst into irrepressible tears。
Dashing blindly into the house； he almost ran into Mr。 Scogan； who
was walking up and down the hall smoking a final pipe。
〃Hullo！〃 said Mr。 Scogan； catching him by the arm； dazed and hardly
conscious of what he was doing or where he was； Denis stood there for a
moment like a somnambulist。 〃What's the matter？〃 Mr。 Scogan went on。
〃you look disturbed； distressed； depressed。〃
Denis shook his head without replying。
〃Worried about the cosmos； eh？〃 Mr。 Scogan patted him on the arm。 〃I
know the feeling；〃 he said。 〃It's a most distressing symptom。 'What's the
point of it all？ All is vanity。 What's the good of continuing to function
if one's doomed to be snuffed out at last along with everything else？' Yes；
yes。 I know exactly how you feel。 It's most distressing if one allows
oneself to be distressed。 But then why allow oneself to be distressed？
After all； we all know that there's no ultimate point。 But what difference
does that make？〃
At this point the somnambulist suddenly woke up。 〃What？〃 he said；
blinking and frowning at his interlocutor。 〃What？〃 Then breaking
away he dashed up the stairs； two steps at a time。
Mr。 Scogan ran to the foot of the stairs and called up after him。 〃It
makes no difference； none whatever。 Life is gay all the same； always；
under whatever circumstancesunder whatever circumstances；〃 he added；
raising his voice to a shout。 But Denis was already far out of hearing；
and even if he had not been； his mind to…nig