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The hour after luncheon was the busiest time。 There were representatives of the Tate Gallery and the National Art Collections Fund； who all promised to return shortly with colleagues and； in the meantime； reserved certain pictures for further consideration。 The most influential critic； who in the past had dismissed me with a few wounding mendations； peered out at me from between his slouch hat and woollen muffler； gripped my arm； and said： 'I knew you had it。 I saw it there。 I've been waiting for it。'
From fashionable and unfashionable lips alike I heard fragments of praise。 'If you'd asked me to guess；' I overheard； 'Ryder's is the last name would have occurred to me。 They're so virile； so passionate。'
They all thought they had found something new。 It had not been thus at my last exhibition in these same rooms； shortly before my going abroad。 Then there had been an unmistakable note of weariness。 Then the talk had been less of me than of the houses； anecdotes of their owners。 That same woman； it came back to me； who now applauded my virility and passion； had stood quite near me； before a painfully laboured canvas； and said； 'So facile。'
I remembered the exhibition； too； for another reason； it was the week I detected my wife in adultery。 Then； as now； she was； a tireless hostess； and I heard her say： 'Whenever I see anything lovely nowadays … a building or a piece of scenery … I think to myself； 〃that's by Charles〃。 I see everything through his eyes。 He is England to me。'
I heard her say that； it was the sort of thing she had the habit of saying。 Throughout our married life； again and again； I had felt my bowels shrivel within me at the things she said。 But that day； in this gallery； I heard her unmoved； and suddenly realized that she was powerless to hurt me any more； I was a free man； she had given me my manumission in that brief； sly lapse of hers； my cuckold's horns made me lord of the forest。
At the end of the day my wife said： 'Darling； I must go。 It's been a terrific success； hasn't it？ I'll think of something to tell them at home； but I wish it hadn't got to happen quite this way。'
'So she knows；' I thought。 'She's a sharp one。 She's had her nose down since luncheon and picked up the scent。'
I let her get clear of the place and was about to follow … the rooms were nearly empty … when I heard a voice at the turnstile I had not heard for many years； an unforgettable self…taught stammer； a sharp cadence of remonstration。
'No。 I have not brought a card of invitation。 I do not even know whether I received one。 I have not e to a social function… I do not seek to scrape acquaintance with Lady Celia； I do not want my photograph in the Tatler； I have not e to exhibit myself。 I have e to see the pictures。 Perhaps you are unaware that there are any pictures here。 I happen to have a personal interest in the artist … if that word has any meaning for you。'
'Antoine' I said； 'e in。'
'My dear； there is a g…g…gorgon here who thinks I am g…g…gate…crashing。 I only arrived in London yesterday； and heard quite by chance at luncheon that you were having an exhibition； so； of course I dashed impetuously to the shrine to pay homage。 Have I changed？ Would you recognize me？ Where are； the pictures？ Let me explain them to you。'
Anthony Blanche had not changed from when I last saw him； not； indeed； from when I first saw him。 He swept lightly across the room to the most prominent canvas … a jungle landscape paused a moment； his head cocked like a knowing terrier； and asked： 'Where； my dear Charles； did you find this sumptuous greenery？ The er of a hothouse at T…t…rent or T…t…tring？ What gorgeous usurer nurture。d these fronds for your pleasure？' Then he made a tour of the two rooms； once or twice he sighed deeply； otherwise he kept silence。 When he came to the end he sighed once more； more deeply than ever； and said： 'But they tell me； My dear； you are happy in love。 That is everything； is it not； or nearly everything？'
'Are they as bad as that？'
Anthony dropped his voice to a piercing whisper： 'My dear； let us not expose your little imposture before these good； plain people' … he gave a conspiratorial glance to the last remnants of the crowd … 'let us not spoil their innocent pleasure。 We know； you and I； that this is all t…t…terrible t…t…tripe。 Let us go； before we offend the connoisseurs。 I know of a louche little bar quite near here。 Let us go there and talk of your other c…c…conquests。'
It needed this voice from the past to recall me； the indiscriminate chatter of praise all that crowded day had worked on me like a succession of advertisement hoardings on a long road； kilometre after kilometre between the poplars； manding one to stay at some new hotel； so that when at the end of the drive； stiff and dusty； one arrives at the destination； it seems inevitable to turn into the yard under the name that had first bored； then angered one； and finally bee an inseparable part of one's fatigue。
Anthony led me from the gallery and down a side street to a door between a disreputable newsagent and a disreputable chemist； painted with the words 'Blue Grotto Club。 Members only。'
'Not quite your milieu； my dear； but mine； I assure you。 After all； you have been in your milieu all day。'
He led me downstairs； from a smell of cats to a smell of gin and cigarette…ends and the sound of a wireless。
'I was given the address by a dirty old man in the Boeuf sur le Toit。 I am most grateful to him。 I have been out of England so long； and really sympathetic little joints like this change so fast。 I presented myself here for the first time yesterday evening； and already I feel quite at home。 Good evening； Cyril。'
' 'Lo； Toni； back again？' said the youth behind the bar。
'We will take our drinks and sit in a er。 You must remember； my dear； that here you are just as conspicuous and； may I say； abnormal； my dear； as I should be in B…b…bratt's。'
The place was painted cobalt； there was cobalt lineoleum on the floor。 Fishes of silver and gold paper had been pasted haphazard on ceiling and walls。 Half a dozen youths were drinking and playing with the slot…machines； an olde