We shall both, I hope, live to enjoy our shares—long after Thames Darrell is forgotten—ha! ha! A third of your estate I accept. Where can we sit down and talk?” He led her across the room towards a window recess, in which a tall, fair young man was seated with an evening paper in his hand. “Not much,” he answered, “and yet about all there is to be known, I fancy. “An uncle in New York is dead, and has left him loads of money. And it has been well for you that he imagines the child was drowned. “Are you sorry you waited, aunt?” she said. "Well, what can you expect, guzzling poison like that? Are you returning with us to Hong-Kong in the morning?" "No. He might solve the riddle. “And yet,” he said, “you bid me talk cheerfully, or not at all. 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. Sweet sixteen year old Shari, who never once figured out the morning sleep hangovers she suffered monthly. Nevertheless though nearly six feet high, and correspondingly proportioned, she was a model of symmetry, and boasted, with the frame of a Thalestris or a Trulla, the regular lineaments of the Medicean Venus. I tried to have it out with him, but he wouldn’t have it out.
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