The light disappeared. They don’t know who did it, actually. This fracture was the handiwork of Jack Parrot (otherwise called Jack the Grinder), who broke into the palace of the Bishop of Norwich. At sunset the swarming abruptly ceased; even the sampans appeared to draw closer together, with the quiet of water-fowl. “Who’ll mind the baby nar?” was one of the night’s inspirations, and very frequent. She lit the cigarette with a tiny Kelly green drugstore lighter.
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