That night she found a ship bound to sail for the heathen nation called America. Both arm-chairs had been moved a little so as to face each other on either side of the fender, and in the circular glow of the green-shaded lamp there lay, conspicuously waiting, a thick bundle of blue and white papers tied with pink tape. There is no Heaven for your mother. His scent was like sweet perfume in her state, like the sweet smell of infants. ‘I think,’ he said pleasantly, ‘that it would be as well if you, Hilary, were to go and fetch the troops.
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