“You forgot to take the safety off! You idiot! You can’t do anything right!” His other hand wormed out of the folds of Sheila’s enormous body. Each manuscript was like the other: the same lovely treatment of an unlovely subject. Only her babe died. Under his arm he carried a thick, knotted crab-stick. He trembled, not from any superstitious dread, but from an undefined sense of approaching danger. Charity for the ragtag and the bobtail of the Seven Seas, and none for his own flesh and blood. ’ ‘What heir?’ ‘Exactly.
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