” Part 6 Then, arising she knew not how, like a new-born appetite, came a craving in Ann Veronica for the sight and sound of beauty. I hope I may never come near her. He eyed the young couple with the tragic history behind them, and could only suppose that familiarity had dulled their senses. So, here he was, on the last lap of middle age, in China, having missed all the thrills in life except one—the war against Death. She had come to the end of her resources. She knew that her voice was superior to Annabel’s, and she had no further qualms. He was the beachcomber, or the old sailor with the black pearl (Ruth's tales), or the wastrel musician McClintock had described to him. The waterman sheltered his mouth with his hand while he spoke, or his voice would have been carried away by the violence of the blast.
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