He wondered if she still had a trace of summer sunburn, or if all through the winter she kept that orange glow under her skin, so that it seemed to be lit from underneath. Concealed lighting, he thought vaguely; and very subtle too. Much more attractive than pink laid on, or even pink that looks as if it were the top surface; this is really orange and pink mixed, and a layer of skin over it all. He was conscious of his hurried heart-beats and his thick, hurried breathing when he looked at the dark-red hair lying so flat on her glowing cheeks, and when for a second she turned to him, he found himself completely disconcerted. "We're nearly there," she said. "It's painfully conventional to have a studio in Chelsea, but I couldn't find another that I liked." She ran the car into a garage; they got out, walked along the road, and turned up a narrow little alley at the end of which they were confronted by a blue door. Helen fumbled with her key; the lock was stiff; impatiently she flung back her dark shawl and stooped, green-frocked and red-haired, against the bright blue background. Geoffrey took a step forward. The juxtaposition of the three colours was intolerable to his nerves, already jangled and overstrained. His chest was aching, his ears drumming, and just as the lock yielded he caught Helen in his arms and kissed her violently and repeatedly. Suddenly he released her and stood on the threshold feeling cold and sick. "I'm sorry," he said, "I've been unpardonable." "You have," she said. "Entirely. I can't imagine what happened. Anyhow I think you'd better go now; everything's sordid and abominable." There was a small red mark at the side of her mouth. Geoffrey stared at it stupidly and could not find anything to say that would not sound either meaningless or offensive. Suddenly he was filled with immense pity for himself and her, and words came easily. "I've hurt you a little," he said, "I'm sorry, my dear, but I'm afraid we're bound to hurt each other, you and I. I never meant to kiss you; it was entirely because of the blue door and the way you stood against it. It really was too much, all that blazing blue and green, and your red hair." "What do you mean?" she asked curiously. "You can come in for a minute if you like. I want to know what you mean when you say it was the blue door." Geoffrey followed her into the small hall and through to a big room at the back whose long windows looked on to a paved garden. She put on the light, drew the curtains of some heavy, dark blue stuff, and knelt down by the fire with a pair of bellows which she used energetically till a small flame wavered up from the sullen coal. "There," she said triumphantly. "That's all right. Now, please, talk to me about everything." Geoffrey had stood looking at her as she coaxed the fire, but he was suddenly overwhelmed by fatigue. He sat down.