" "And so will I," said Austin. “It is part of the irony of life,” he said. They sat face to face beneath an experienced-looking rucksack and a brand new portmanteau and a leather handbag, in the afternoon-boat train that goes from Charing Cross to Folkestone for Boulogne. I’ll go after them and kill him. “I cannot conceive,” he said, “how any other occupation could ever have occurred to you. ’ ‘For God’s sake, don’t accuse her of murder,’ begged Gerald, retrieving the lady’s hat and handing it to her, ‘or she’ll be challenging me to a duel again. A hazy face appeared through the fog of sleep, pale and thin and looming.
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