From the centre of the ceiling hung a replica of the temple lamp in the Taj Mahal. As he was leaving the hotel, Ah Cum stepped up to his side. ‘I do not remember the name,’ Melusine said, turning to Mrs Ibstock. This farewell had been particularly distasteful to him. Her mother did not seem to like the new doctor at all, shunning him with a near superstitious dread. ‘Why do you think I told you about the portrait? I’d not seen it, of course, but I’d seen Miss Mary just before she got married, which is when it was painted. The Yale spirit! James Boyle O'Higgins was, as the saying goes, somewhat out of luck. The hotel manager was expostulating and Ah Cum was replying by a series of expressive shrugs.
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