His hand shook and his knee rebelled against exertion, but his eye was unwavering, his chin unflinching.

White and sparse was the thatch of hair upon his shrunken skull, and harsh was the thin voice that came from his straight, colourless lips.

He walked with a cane, and seldom without the patient, much-berated Wade at his elbow, a prop against the dreaded day when his legs would go back on him and the brink would appear abruptly out of nowhere at his very feet.

And there were times when he put his hand to his side and held it there till the look of pain softened about his mouth and eyes, though never quite disappeared..