‘I’ve never found a woman who did not drive me into a frenzy of boredom. She had been built for canvas and oil-lamps, and this new thingumajig that kept her nose snoring at eight knots when normally she was able to boil along at ten, and these unblinking things they called lamps (that neither smoked nor smelled), irked and threatened to ruin her temper. 55 <7> THE MANOR, 1349 They moved to the country manor in the autumn of 1349, when plague was still raging through the city. Tell me a story—with apple-blossoms in it—about people who are happy. “Don’t befool me any more,” he answered, almost roughly.
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