Ralph Lowson came to Peter’s funeral at John’s invitation. He was several years older than John, but had an equivocal ageless look about him, his greying hair belying his generally youthful demeanour, and his bright eyes and battery of smiling teeth illuminating what would otherwise have been a lean saturnine face.
“It’s good of you to come, Mr. Lowson,” said John, returning the handshake. “My father thought very highly of you and the work youdo.”
“You’re very kind, Mr. Newman,” replied Lowson. “I’m only sorry that we should meet for the first time under such sad circumstances.”
John nodded and looked down. “Yes. It’s because my father was talking about you the day he died that I asked you to come. I appreciate you’re a busy man, but tomorrow I’ve some business ideas I’d like to discuss
