269 They pulled up to the same spot where Michelle’s and the young man’s bodies were, already attracting dust and creeping bugs in the pit. ‘Laisse-moi!’ Impatience swamped him. 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. “He couldn’t look me in the face and say it,” said Ann Veronica. "At present under the care of his preserver—one Owen Wood, a carpenter, by whom he was brought up. ‘I just don’t understand you, Gerald. C. Some part of the stiff vigour of the man seemed to have subsided.
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