Well, goodbye, both of you.
Don't get over-tired. It's been a long day.'
He turned in at the gate and went up the steps.
I saw a woman come to the window and smile and wave her hand.
We drove away down the road and turned the corner.
I leant back in my seat and closed my eyes.
Now that we were alone again and the strain was over, the sensation was one of almost unbearable relief.
It was like the bursting of an abscess.
Maxim did not speak.
I felt his hand cover mine.
We drove on through the traffic and I saw none of it.
I heard the rumble of the buses, the hooting of taxis, that inevitable, tireless London roar, but I was not part of it.
I rested in some other place that was cool and quiet and still.
Nothing could touch us any more.
We had come through our crisis.
When Maxim stopped the car I opened my eyes and sat up.
We were opposite one of those numerous little restaurants in a narrow street in Soho. I looked about me, dazed and stupid.
'You're tired,' said Maxim briefly.
'Empty and tired and fit for nothing.
You'll be better when you've had something to eat.
So shall I.
We'll go in here and order dinner right away.
I can telephone to Frank too.'
We got out of the car.
There was no one in the restaurant but the maitre d'hotel and a waiter and a girl behind a desk.
It was dark and cool.
We went to a table right in the corner. Maxim began ordering the food.
'Favell was right about wanting a drink,' he said.
'I want one too and so do you.
You're going to have some brandy.'
The maitre d'hotel was fat and smiling. He produced long thin rolls in paper envelopes.
They were very hard, very crisp.
I began to eat one ravenously.
My brandy and soda was soft, warming, curiously comforting.
'When we've had dinner we'll drive slowly, very quietly,' said Maxim.
'It will be cool, too, in the evening.
We'll find somewhere on the road we can put up for the night.
Then we can get along to Manderley in the morning.'
'Yes,' I said.
'You didn't want to dine with Julyan's sister and go down by the late train?'
'No.'
Maxim finished his drink.
His eyes looked large and they were ringed with the shadows.
They seemed very dark against the pallor of his face.
'How much of the truth', he said, 'do you think July an guessed?'
I watched him over the rim of my glass. I did not say anything.
'He knew,' said Maxim slowly: 'of course he knew.'
'If he did,' I said, 'he will never say anything.
Never, never.'
'No,' said Maxim.