“It is part of the irony of life,” he said. “Wow, congratulations, Martin. She sings twice a week at the ‘Ambassador’s’ and the ‘Casino Mavise’——” Sir John held up his hand. He rose at once to his feet and turned a white face upon her. Women to me are something so serene, so fine, so feminine, and politics are so dusty, so sordid, so wearisome and quarrelsome. If you ask me, you’ll have to beat her regularly if you don’t want to live a dog’s life. He went in and leaned, panting, against one wall. The night was now profoundly dark. Only how had they missed him? Were they imbecile? Or perhaps the mists had concealed him from them.
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