It was obvious that he had waited for her. By his side sat a remarkably stout dame, to whom he paid as much attention as it was in his iron nature to pay. My father died a year ago, by the way. She breathed deeply of the starch of his shirt. I miss them so. But what did the occupant of the box care? The laugh was always with the dead: they were out of the muddle. ’ ‘You say—what?’ gasped Melusine. So, here he was, on the last lap of middle age, in China, having missed all the thrills in life except one—the war against Death.
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