The dream flowers and is harvested, and we are left by the wayside, having served our singular purpose in the scheme of progress: as the orange is tossed aside when sucked of its ruddy juice. Wood, I forget nothing. “I cannot conceive,” he said, “how any other occupation could ever have occurred to you. Besides," he added cynically, "it is said that God watches over fools and drunken men. “Your great success has been my joy, our joy as well as yours. ’ ‘Comment? You wish to murder me?’ ‘No, I wish to beat you,’ he retorted. In any event, I explained that no one lived here and that we’d been called in because of suspected intruders. It is not at all comme il faut. Perhaps that was the reason why she enjoyed preparing suppers at the Becks.
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