“Lymond surveyed the grinning audience with an air of gentle discovery. “Is there no work to be done? Or perhaps it’s a holiday?”

“What do you hope for that you haven’t got? What can that child give you?’ There was a little silence. ‘A virgin audience for my riddles, I believe,’ said Lymond thoughtfully, at length. ‘But it certainly poses an ungallant question.”

“It was one of the occasions when Lymond asleep wrecked the peace of mind of more people than Lymond awake.”

“To the men exposed to his rule Lymond never appeared ill: he was never tired; he was never worried, or pained, or disappointed, or passionately angry. If he rested, he did so alone; if he slept, he took good care to sleep apart. “—I sometimes doubt if he’s human,” said Will, speaking his thought aloud. “It’s probably all done with wheels.”

“You choose to play God, and the Deity points out that the post is already adequately filled. During an outburst of besotted philanthropy he had redeemed Lymond, but Lymond quite simply was not prepared to be rescued; and least of all by his brother.”

“Whatever fascination Lymond held for her mother, it had no power at five in the morning.”

“We’ll do it,’ said Will Scott comfortably, shouting over the tumult. ‘If it’s no more than an hour, we’ll do it.’ ‘Christ, I believe you’re sorry, you flaming maniac,’ said Lymond. ‘Don’t I keep telling you that this is bloody childishness, and don’t you keep agreeing?”