When Maud rose from the table, Paula was obliged to stop telling Nathaniel about Roydon's play. She glowered at being interrupted, but went out with the other women.

Maud led the way to the drawing-room. It was a big room, and it felt chilly. Only two standard-lamps, placed near the fireplace, lit it, and the far corners of the room lay in shadow. Paula gave a shiver, and switched on the ceiling-lights. "I hate this house!" she said. "It hates us, too. You can almost feel it."

"Whatever do you mean?" asked Valerie, looking round half-fearfully, halt-sceptically.

"I don't know. I think something happened here, perhaps. Can't you feel how sinister it is? No, I suppose you can't."

"You don't mean that it's haunted, do you?" Valerie asked, her voice rising slightly. "Because nothing would induce me to spend a night here, if it is!"

"No, I don't mean that," Paula answered. "But there's something about it - I'm always conscious of it. Cigarette, Mathilda?"

Mathilda took one. "Thank you, my love. Shall we gather round the fire, chicks, and tell ghost stories?"

"Oh, don't!" shuddered Valerie.

"Don't let Paula impress you!" Mathilda advised her. "She is just being fey. There's nothing wrong with this house."

"It is a pity that there are no radiators in this room," said Maud, ensconcing herself by the fire.

"It isn't that," said Paula curtly.

"I expect that's what gives Nat lumbago," said Maud. "Draughts -"

Valerie began to powder her nose before the mirror over the fireplace. Paula, who seemed to be restless, drifted about the room, smoking a cigarette, and nicking the ash on to the carpet.

Mathilda, taking a chair opposite to Maud, said: "I wish you wouldn't prowl, Paula. And if you could refrain from badgering Nat about your young friend's play I feel that this party might go with more of a swing."

"I don't care about that. It's vital to me to get Willoughby's play put on!"