We were alone. Macfarlane and MacGregor had temporarily taken charge of Findhorn, and his cronies and Mungo had given Marie and the young girl something to make them sleep. I leaned back in Mungo"s chair and allowed the warmth of the fire soak into my battered body. Opposite me, Mungo nursed his glass. I watched the firelight play with the red claret.
"Well, Mungo," I said. "We"ve had some wild times." I waited for him to say something although in truth I did not know what he could say.
"We have, Dorothea," he said. "And if things were different," he paused and repeated, "if things were only different."
I prompted him. "If things were only different, Mungo, what?"
The smile lit up his ugly, battered face. "If I had money or the hope of making it, I would be looking for a woman very lik
