“It flashed along the water-front like a train of cellulose beetles, black and glittering, each of the thirty cars a reflection of the glare of sun on sea. He wondered, as the cars leapt away up the avenue of jade and carmine villas, eye-less in the bright evening under closed white shades, why funerals in Salandar were always such races, unpompous and frenzied, as if they were really chasing the dead. He wondered too why he never saw them coming back again. They dashed in black undignified weep...ing haste to somewhere along the sea-coast, where blue and yellow fishing boats beat with high moon-like prows under rocks ashen with burnt sea-weed, and then vanished for ever. He let the blind fall into place again, leaning spare brown elbows on the mahogany lid of his desk. He was thinking that that evening a ship would be in. It could not matter which ship—he was pretty sure it was the Alacantara—since nobody in their senses ever came to Salandar in the summer. There would in any case be no English passengers and he would meet it out of pure routine.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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