82 MY FAMILY AND OTHER ANIMALS stition.... No, no, merely a superstition. I have a book here that gives a most é#/eresting account of vampires in... um - Bosnia. It seems that the local people there...” Tea would arrive, the cakes squatting on cushions of cream, toast in a melting shawl of butter, cups agleam, anda faint wisp of steam rising from the teapot spout. - but, on the other hand, it is impossible to say that there is xo life on Mars. It is, in my opinion, quite possible that some form of life will be found... er... discovered there, should we ever succeed in ge¢fing there. But there is no reason to suppose that any form of life found there would be identical... .” Sitting there, neat and correct in his tweed suit, Theodore would chew his toast slowly and methodically, his beard bristling, his eves kindling with enthusiasm at each new subject that swam into our conversation. To me his know- ledge seemed inexhaustible. He wasa rich vein of information, and | mined him assiduously. No matter what the subject, Theodore could contribute something interesting to it. At last I would hear Spiro honking his horn in the street below, and I would rise reluctantly to go. ‘Good-bye,’ Theodore would say, tugging my hand. ‘It’s been a pleasure having you... er... no, no, not at all. See you next Thursday. When the weather g gets better . less damp ... in the spring, you know . . . perhaps we ve might go for some walks together . . . see what we can obtain. There are some most interesting ditches in the Val de Ropa -um, yes.... Well, good-bye. ... Not at all.’ Driving back along the dark, rain-washed roads, Spiro humming richly as he squatted behind the wheel, ] would dream of the spring to come, and of all the wonderful creatures that Theodore and I would capture. Eventually the warm wind and the rain of winter seemed to polish the sky, so that when January arrived it shone a clear, tender blue . . . the same blue as that of the tiny flames that devoured the olive-logs in the charcoal pits. The nights were still and cool, with a moon so fragile it barely freckled the sea with silver points. The dawns were pale and trans-