"There's only one way out of the muddle, that I can see. Sebastian physically restrained her as she hit and scratched at him, trying to touch her mother who went swiftly into her death throes. The procession had just got into line of march, when a dreadful groan, mixed with yells, hootings, and execrations, was heard. “It is part of the irony of life,” he said. “I imagine,” Sir John said, “that your sister would acquaint him with it. On a stool eight feet high sat a small boy in a faded blue cotton, his face like that of young Buddha.
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