48 <6> THE FRIDAY NIGHT SHOW The air was chill and the sky overcast and misting. She was new, unlike any other woman he had met in all his wide travel. All the rest of his existence was subordinate to this pursuit; he lived for it, worked for it, kept himself in training for it. “You silly wimmin,” he said over and over again throughout the hearing, plucking at his blotting-pad with busy hands. ‘Gabbling and muttering in a foreign tongue, that’s what I heard, sir,’ had declared the gap-toothed ancient, when he told them of the initial foray he had made, sneaking around the house in the dark. The parlour was cluttered but cosy.
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