As always, Nick felt a need to make things all right. He said, "I wonder where we are. Is this Middlesex, I suppose?"

"I suppose it's Middlesex," Gerald said. He hated to be thwarted and was already impatient.

"Not very nice," said Elena.

"No… " said Nick, hesitantly, humorously, as if considering a defence of it, to pass the time. He knew Elena was anxious about the party, and about her role for the evening. She had asked a couple of questions already about Fales, who was Lionel Kessler's new butler, with whom she was about to find herself pressed into some unspecified relation.

"If Lionel's giving us lunch," said Gerald, "we'd better stop somewhere and ring ahead. We'll be late."

"Oh, Lionel won't mind," said Rachel, "we're just taking pot luck."

"Hmm," said Gerald. "One doesn't as a rule find the words Lionel and pot luck used in the same sentence." The tone was mocking, but suggested a certain anxiety of his own about his brother-in-law, and a sense of obligation. Rachel settled back contentedly.

"Everything will be fine," she said. And in fact the traffic did then make a move, and an optimistic attitude, which was the only sort Gerald could bear, was cautiously indulged. Nick thought about the old-fashioned name Lionel. Of course it was related to Leo; but Lionel was a little heraldic lion, whereas Leo was a big live beast.

Five minutes later they were at a standstill.

"This fucking traffic," said Gerald; at which Elena looked a bit flustered.

"As well as everything else," Nick said, with determined brightness, "I can't wait to see the house."

"Well, you're going to have to," said Gerald.

"Ah, the house," said Rachel, with a sighing laugh.

Nick said, "Or perhaps you don't like it. It must be different for you, having grown up there." He felt he was rather fawning on her.

"I don't know," Rachel admitted. "I hardly know if I like it or not."