WESTBURY, ENGLAND, KIRPAL SINGH STOOD where the horse’s saddle would have lain across its back. At first he simply stood on the back of the horse, paused and waved to those he could not see but who he knew would be watg. Lord Suffolk watched him through binoculars, saw the young man wave, both arms up and swaying.
Then he desded, down into the giant white chalk horse of Westbury, into the whiteness of the horse, carved into the hill.
Now he was a black figure, the background radicalizing the darkness of his skin and his khaki uniform. If the focus on the binoculars was exact, Lord Suffolk would see the thin line of crimson lanyard on Singh’s shoulder that signalled his sapper unit. To them it would look like he was striding doer map cut out in the shape of an animal. But Singh was scious only of his boots scuffing the rough white chalk as he moved down the slope.
Miss Morden, behind him, was also ing slowly down the hill, a satchel over her shoulder, ……（内容加载失败！）
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