Now, as she stared at the image of her own face, she recalled something Major Alderley had said. ‘Though he didn’t mean it. Meat pies with sweet crust were stuffed with macaroni, steaks of pork and beef were pounded thin and grilled rare, capons had been marinated in plum wine and cinnamon, and veal sausages stewed in cream were served over fine noodles: all the dishes that he loved were present. We want to celebrate, and we want you to help us. Black blood and white bone flew into the corners of the crypt, slathering the dead faces of the corpses left piled in the corner. Their conversation degenerated again and again into a strain of self-congratulation that would have irked an eavesdropper. "Look at it!" he felt like screaming. " "What else did you do when alone?" "I read the encyclopaedia. Foolish compliments were tossed about like confetti.
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