‘He lacked moral fibre, did Nicholas. He gave an order, the proa was floated and the sail run up. “In the end,” it seemed to be thinking, “they embalmed me with the utmost respect—sound spices chosen to endure—the best! I took my world as I found it. But you must get him into the chair as fast as you can, and hurry off to Newgate. Then I tucked it nice and snug under the saddle-bag. The cultivated indifference, which was part of the armour of his little world fell away from him. But I have remembered the horse and have asked this sergeant that a soldier fetch him. “Do you like my dress?” “Yes, the dress is beautiful, but you are much more beautiful than any dress.
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