The nun on the threshold was of middle age and heavily built, her back uneven from toil and her hands roughened. I was in Lancashire, at our family seat, at the time you mention. She imagined herself on a barren 41 plain, post-Apocalypse, convulsing, waiting to die with the cockroach. ’ The fellow seized on this. ‘Don’t rightly know how you make that out, you being a French spy and a prisoner and all. I had that coming. ‘She is constantly thinking of you,’ I said. ’ ‘How shocking. He walked on for an hour longer, till he could scarcely drag one leg after another. Of course, at home there would have been questions.
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