But escape to where? She thought of the ships that sailed from the peninsulas to hot deserts where spices were traded. He looked like the shadow of himself—thin, feeble, hollow-eyed—his beard unshorn—nothing could be more miserable. Melusine’s heart jumped and she felt heat rising into her cheeks. Kneebone, or, as he would have preferred being styled, Captain Kneebone, was not perfectly satisfied with the recommendations forwarded by the applicants. Finally she fell into reflection. So, here he was, on the last lap of middle age, in China, having missed all the thrills in life except one—the war against Death.
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