Sheppard, smiling through her tears. Any man might have endeavoured to protect himself in this fashion, a man with no one to care, with an unnameable terror at the thought (as if it mattered!) of being buried in alien earth, far from the familiar places he loved. Here one might live the life of golden days. He became primitive, literal in his conception; the ramifications were, for the nonce, fairly relegated to limbo. Until Leonardo. We shall have him on his return. Didn’t I say that this whole business of your camping in Remenham House was the one aspect I could not puzzle out?’ ‘You are very clever, monsieur Gérard,’ she conceded, although Gerald was amused by the grudging note, ‘but in truth it is not yet my house.
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