He stopped, panting hard, slamming his cane to the floor to make use of its much-needed support. There were doorways to peer into, dim cluttered holes with shadowy forms moving about, potters and rug-weavers. At times he was brilliant and masterful, talked round and over every one, and would have been domineering if he had not been extraordinarily kindly; at times he was almost monosyllabic, and defeated Miss Garvice’s most skilful attempts to draw him out. ‘Do you think it is the man in the moon that I mean? What is it that Gérard has told you?’ ‘That you need help. . Her eyes were lit with a gleam of humour.
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