CHAPTER ONE
It was going to be one of Kate s bad mornings. Matthew
knew it as soon as he woke up and saw her sitting on the
edge of her bed， gripping it as if it were a life raft， while she
stared into the distance as if she had seen smoke on the
horizon which might promise her rescue. But the bedroom
curtains， in a yellow and white pattern that she and Mat-
thew had once c~sen together， were all that she could see.
Dull daylight s~ped through the curtains. It fell on her
tense face， faintly oily from the cream that she had rubbed
into it the evening before， and was reflected in her wide，
dark， angry eyes. She had woken up angry， for whatever
reason Matthew， as always， was unable to guess. In some
way， whenever this happened， he took for granted that he
was to blame， though she never told him just how or why he
was. Distantly， silently， she would carry the dark secret of
how he had offended her throughout the day， only， ap-
parently， all of a sudden to forget it herself and become
relaxed， casual， even loving. Less and less loving as time
passed， ye~ it could sometimes happen still.
It was all very mysterious to Matthew， and very painful.
He was a man who blamed himself easily for the unhap-
piness of others， a quality in himself that he had failed to
recognise as a kind of egoism. In his diffident way， he saw
himself as affecting other people far more potently than he
actually did. Usually he tried to deal with his incom-
prehensible guilt by saying nothing， showing nothing and
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