John finally wrested her away from the company of his parents, insisting that he wanted to take a walk in the park before it was completely dark. It was long and narrow, a well-lit, wellventilated, quiet gallery of small tables and sinks, pervaded by a thin smell of methylated spirit and of a mitigated and sterilized organic decay. ‘Would you have me face my maker with that on my conscience? If I’d died, there’d have been no one to tell you, for your father would not have done. “Dinner is served, m’m,” said the efficient parlor-maid in the archway, and the worst was over.
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