” She looked at him quizzically. “This is Mr. “There are some people,” he said at last, “who seem fated to carry on their shoulders the burdens of other people. 82 She was putting a manuscript away, gingerly locking its heavy tooled cover, but it was a huge, awkward tome. Hadn’t they settled that already? “I want you as a friend,” he persisted, almost as if he disputed something. It could only mean one thing—that her foster daughter was both a whore and a murderer! When Sheila confronted her about it, it was five in the morning. A little inn flying a Swiss flag nestles under a great rock, and there they put aside their knapsacks and lunched and rested in the mid-day shadow of the gorge and the scent of resin. "Seize this oar," vociferated the waterman.
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