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“Oh, Simon, Simon, I shall break. It’s like Death. I can’t face it.”

“You can with me. We can face anything. What’s death to us, so long as we go out well?”

Patricia lifted her head.

“You’re right,” she said quietly. “We—we must go out well.” For a moment her eyes wandered over the heaven. Then they returned to his. She put up a little hand and touched his hair, setting it back from his temples and patting it as she pleased. Then she smiled very tenderly. “Let’s pick our flower now, darling.”

The man smiled back.

For a minute they kissed and clung—while the world rocked.... Then he loosened his hold, and she fell away.

He picked up her hand and kissed her finger-tips.

“My beautiful darling,” he said. “My sweet, my sweet.”

Then he leaned back against the stone-work and took out a cigarette.

For a moment he fingered this, smiling thoughtfully.

Then he looked up.

“Pat,” he said, “what about a glass of champagne? Between you and me, I think we’ve earned it.”

“My dear,” said Patricia Bohun, “your brain’s in your head.” They started to stroll towards the mansion. “By the way, did I tell you to back Grey Ruby for the Stewards’ Cup?”