Diana is ready for bed, she has washed and brushed her hair. The hem of her white nightie is showing beneath her dressing-gown. She takes him by the hand and shows him the table which she has helped you to set. She points to the candles and explains that they are not to be lit until the meal is served.They sit on either side of the fireplace, their faces lit by the flames as you baste the lamb one last time. Diana has discovered a face of utter serenity. She sits with her hands clasped together in her lap, her wondering eyes drinking in the potent sweetness of this god who has descended on her house.‘Billy’s in bed,’ she tells him. ‘He’s too young to stay up.’ Smiley shrugs his shoulders, shifts uncomfortably in the chair. He has nothing to say to her. He tugs at his cravat and looks at the pictures on the wall.‘We don’t usually have a fire,’ Diana continues. ‘It’s specially for you.’ Her wide eyes follow the movements of his fingers as he scratches his nose.‘Mmm,’ he says, making a superhuman effort.
