For a while they stood there, silent, motionless, staring at the doorway where still a few strings of the bamboo curtain swayed and twisted, agitated by the Wastrel's passage. ‘His granddaughter?’ ‘Yes, his son’s daughter. . . The wound lay open for five seconds, and then closed neatly as if it had been stitched by invisible hands. We’ll leave him here, with a couple of others. Sebastian dug through the viscous layers of foul-smelling clay with a shovel, each successive insertion creating an obscene sucking noise that ate at her sanity. He drew her to him with his hands upon her waist. ‘That is good. “No, I’d like to. It has been a marvellous day—and I am going to England. For a few minutes all was silent.
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