The Bell by Iris Murdoch

was large and covered with tiny red veins. He gave the impression of being a little greasy and of having too much hair. Yet he had a certain handsomeness and even a distant touch of that refinement which breathed so chill and sweet in the beauty of his sister.
    Nick was younger-looking than Toby had expected, but certainly seemed the worse for wear. Toby, whose imagination was ready for flights where Nick was concerned, immediately conjectured that he might be a drunkard. This would explain the portentous conversation he had overheard. It was a part of Toby’s new sophistication to know that there were also many ways of being a drunkard. There were good drunkards. He decided that Nick was probably one, and with that resolved to like him. At the same moment he noticed a whisky bottle standing on the table, which confirmed his view.
    Nick and Michael were looking at each other. Michael still seemed embarrassed. He said, ‘I do hope you’re giving yourself enough to eat down here. I wish you’d come up to the house occasionally for a meal.’ He scanned the table. There was an unsavoury-looking dish of meat near the far end.
    â€˜That’s Murphy’s supper,’ said Nick, ‘I was just going to give it to him. Doggy, your moment has come!’ He decanted the meat off the dish on to the floor with a plop. It fell on to one of the newspapers. It was evident that other newspapers present had served a similar purpose. Murphy ceased his contemplation of Toby and began noisily to eat his supper.
    â€˜Mrs Mark must have had a fit when she saw this scene,’ said Michael.
    â€˜She animadverted, as women do,’ said Nick. They were looking at each other uneasily.
    â€˜She got Toby’s room ready?’ said Michael.
    â€˜She did something upstairs which I assume was that. She was here an unconscionable time,’ said Nick. ‘Have a drink.’ He picked up the whisky bottle.
    â€˜No, thank you,’ said Michael. ‘I think I’d better go. I just came to deliver Toby.’
    â€˜Don’t then, and go then,’ said Nick.
    Michael Meades still lingered, his eyes straying about the room. He looked as if he felt he had not conducted the encounter very well.
    â€˜How is my sainted sister?’ said Nick, who also seemed to want to prolong the interview.
    â€˜She’s very well, very happy,’ said Michael.
    â€˜When I am told that a person is happy,’ said Nick, ‘I know that he is not. Of really happy people this is never said. Don’t you agree, Toby?’
    Toby jumped nervously at being addressed. He had settled into being a spectator. ‘I don’t know,’ he said.
    â€˜Toby doesn’t know,’ said Nick. ‘Has the erring wife arrived?’
    â€˜Mrs Greenfield has come,’ said Michael. ‘Well, I hope we’ll see more of you up at the house. I must be getting back now.’
    â€˜So you keep saying,’ said Nick.
    â€˜Look after Toby,’ said Michael.
    Nick laughed, which made him suddenly look pleasanter, and opened the door ceremoniously for Michael, who, with an awkward gesture of farewell, disappeared.
    â€˜Incompetent,’ said Nick, looking after him into the darkness. ‘Incompetent. Oh God!’
    He turned to Toby. ‘I expect you’d like to go to bed, young man. They’ve probably told you to get up at a shocking hour. And it must be tiring at your age to meet such a bunch of crazies in a day.’
    â€˜I am tired,’ said Toby. ‘I think I’ll go up.’ He looked Nick firmly in the face, determined not to let him see that he was nervous.
    â€˜Up, yes,’ said Nick. He turned to where Murphy, who had completed his supper, was standing meditating. ‘Up!’ he shouted to the dog.
    Murphy turned quickly and sprang into the air. Nick caught him in his arms and cuddled him against his chest. The dog’s paws and smiling jaws appeared over his