"All's over," muttered Jonathan. A few yards further off something grey, inert, was lying, a huddled-up heap of humanity twisted into a strange unnatural shape. ‘And if not her, for she is dead, then me. That's the way it goes. And he departed, just as Wood, who had become alarmed by Thames's long absence, made his appearance with a blunderbuss in his hand. He was just as much a greater master than any other I ever saw, as he was a greater judge of time and measure. “What have you done?” 212 “It is your own fault, Lucia. It was time to disappear, no more Becks, no more Spaghetti Nights, no more afternoon kisses in the park with John Diedermayer. Please sit down, Miss —dear me, I haven’t asked you your name yet.
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