Carston + 

He was struggling with the branch line of a remote English railway. He got to a place where people changed, and was in the mood to bear with the proceedings of another century. + 

He had plenty of them before he reached the village called Tambourne. Plenty of fine old women in black-beaded bodices, one button always missing where the strain came over the breasts. Plenty of young livestock being shifted up and down the line. Plenty of the porters’ family party. Plenty of a plate of macaroons locked alone in a glass box in a deserted refreshment room. + 

Plenty of superb trees, and white nettle-scented dust. At the inn called the Star at Tambourne, plenty of regret for Nanna’s fine darned linen and China tea. A night of stars and bats came very slowly. Once out of the wood and away from his relations he asked himself why in Christ’s name he had come to see old Mr. Tracy. An ancient of days was living a stroll away from him at Tambourne House. He fetched the cup from his suitcase and put it on the red baize parlour table, a dumb circle of pale green. Why couldn’t the thing speak? Just once. Dumb was the word for it. He got rather tight all by himself, but without inspiration. He would have to go and call, have to go call. All up that yellow drive by himself. + 