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                  “Have you spoken, young shire?”  asked Mrs. Ramage, the Carmichaels, the ill-fated but lovable old housekeeper, as she came in from the cupboard.  As usual, her cap was askew and she reeked of the snuff she firmly believed, after all these years, to be a secret.  vice.
                  Although Ian Carmichael wouldn’t have moved from Little Dunthorpe for all the jewels in the Queen’s treasury, he had to admit to himself that when it rained in Cornwall it rained harder than anywhere else in England.
                  He remembered Geoffrey saying: You mustn’t cry in front of her, old man – that’s the one thing you must never do
                  She took the urinal from him and placed it carefully on the floor.  “Now let’s get you back to bed,” he said.  “You must be exhausted… and your legs must be singing grand opera.”  He nodded, though the truth was he couldn’t feel anything – this drug on top of what he’d already given himself was driving him unconscious at an alarming rate, and he was starting to see the room through gauze sheets gray.  She held onto one thought – she was going to get him up on the bed, and when she did she’d have to be blind and numb not to notice that the back of his underwear happened to be stuffed with little cans.
                  She took the urinal from him and placed it carefully on the floor.  “Now let’s get you back to bed,” he said.  “You must be exhausted… and your legs must be singing grand opera.”  He nodded, though the truth was he couldn’t feel anything – this drug on top of what he’d already given himself was driving him unconscious at an alarming rate, and he was starting to see the room through gauze sheets gray.  She held onto one thought – she was going to get him up on the bed, and when she did she’d have to be blind and numb not to notice that the back of his underwear happened to be stuffed with little cans.
                  “Of course. I’ll just drop a few things off and be right back.”  As soon as he left the room, he would reach behind him, take out the boxes and stuff them one by one under the mattress.  The layers of gauze continued to thicken, moving steadily from gray to black.
                  “Just one more minute, Paul, and you can adjourn.”
                  She took him to the side of the bed.
                  She took him to the side of the bed.
                  “Just one more minute, Paul, and you can adjourn.”
                  “Annie, can you wait five minutes?”  managed.  She looked at him, her gaze narrowing slightly.  “I thought you were in a lot of pain, Buster.”
                  “I am,” he said.  “I’m in… a lot of pain. My knee, mostly. Where… er, where you lost your cool. I’m not ready to be taken. I could have five minutes to… to… . “He knew what she wanted to say, but she was drifting away from him. Drifting away and into the gray. He looked at her helplessly, knowing he would be caught eventually.
                  Far away in the drawing-room he could hear Chopin’s undulations, and he paused with the strip of the towel still in his left hand, listening.
                  Her labor was long and hard, but no longer and no harder than that of many other young ladies she had seen, the midwife declared.  It was only after midnight, an hour after Joffrey had entered the storm to try and fetch the doctor, that the midwife had become concerned.  That’s when the bleeding had started.
                  Put them as low as you can, he thought blindly.  Be sure to do this so that if the bed is changed, it will not pull them out with the ground sheet.  Put them as low as possible.  .  .  you .  .  .
                  Writing does not cause unhappiness, it is born out of unhappiness.
                  Far away in the drawing-room he could hear Chopin’s undulations, and he paused with the strip of the towel still in his left hand, listening.
                  She took him to the side of the bed.
                  “Should I let the medicine work?”  she asked and he nodded gratefully.
                  Put them as low as you can, he thought blindly.  Be sure to do this so that if the bed is changed, it will not pull them out with the ground sheet.  Put them as low as possible.  .  .  you .  .  .
                  She took him to the side of the bed.
                  She took him to the side of the bed.
                  Although Ian Carmichael wouldn’t have moved from Little Dunthorpe for all the jewels in the Queen’s treasury, he had to admit to himself that when it rained in Cornwall it rained harder than anywhere else in England.
                  “Dear old Geoffrey” He spoke it out loud this time as he entered the huge and incredibly warm West Country kitchen.