DORIS LESSING
559
"It sounds to me as if we're not really your cup of tea."
She laughed. "Have you got anything against our meeting? A
little chat? A meal?"
"You live in Manchester?"
"Yes, but I'm in London this weekend."
"Do you want to come here?"
"Neutral ground . A restaurant."
"Good God , I never thought of myself as a minefield. Or
something. "
"Or something. What kind of restaurant?"
"I don't give a damn."
"You don't? I'm told - far too often - that Angela is a perfect
cook."
"You can have too much of a good thing."
"Oh. All right then, where?"
They agreed to arrive late at the restaurant, so as not to be hur–
ried , and in fact the place was emptying. They sat examining each
other with a curiosity due almost entirely to the absent Henry, the
absent Angela . She was thinking, why should Angela get rid of one,
and take on another just the same?
But he was thinking, My God, Henry's going to find her a
handful, after Angela . And congratulated himself on getting the bet–
ter bargain .
He was a tall, dark, rather stooped man-as if even the height
he had seemed to him too obtrusive, and he was trying to lessen it.
He wore conventionally good clothes. He had a quizzical look, a
sign, she was convinced, of the deprecatory humor that drove her
wild. He was smiling politely at a dramatic blonde dressed-he felt
strongly-much too handsomely for the occasion .
He was more on guard than he knew, although he had said to
himself before arriving, Now, careful, the slightest thing sets her off.
Every line of him said, "Don't come too close ." He leaned back in his
chair, even tilting it as she leaned forward towards him. She was
aware that they must look as if she pursued him, but she did not
care.
He was thinking that her voice did nothing for her. A pity, too,
that Americans had to-as they would put-verbalize everything.
Intelligent: she was evidently that. But a pity that. ...
Having got the ordering of the food out of the way - unimpor–
tant for this occasion, she said, "Sebastian, how long have you been
with Angela?"
