‘It’s not yours, is it? Have you had some thrilling foresight of the future and seen yourself carried in state within its emerald walls? Is that it? It is, isn’t it?’ She considered the building with a critic’s eye. ‘It’s very nice, isn’t it? I must confess, Johannes, it’s not the sort of place I expected you to end up interred. I was thinking something more along the lines of a ditch.’
