“Child! An Oracle is a woman who has had her womb poisoned out of her, a eunuch. ‘You are wise, Marthe. ’ ‘Mercy me,’ gasped the nun. Ramage. ’ Tears glistened in her eyes. “I can’t believe it. But she was relentless. ‘After all the threats you’ve made, that is hardly fair. “I hope that you are going to allow me to see something of you during your stay in London, for the sake of old times. ’” “Yes?” “I think—yes, I went on in a pleasing blend of the casual and sotto voce, ‘The fact of it is, sir, I happen to be your son-in-law, Capes. Remember, in your story—look at it, scattered everywhere!—that line? We arrive at true happiness only through labyrinths of misery.
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