“I’ve lost interest in trials,” Hasson said. “I’m supposed to attend another one in England, and I’ve lost interest in that as well.” .’They’ll go looking for you.”

“The world’s a big place, Theo, and I’m going to gallop off in all directions.” Hasson paused to make a proper acknowledgement of the boy’s presence. “That’s another line from Stephen Leacock.”

Theo nodded and sat on the edge of the bed. “I’ll get around to reading him some day.”

“Sure you will.” A sudden renewal of sympathy made Hasson wonder if he was being too self-centred. “Are you positive about not having those cataracts removed? Nobody would stop you having the operation done on one eye, anyway.”

“I’m positive, thanks.” Theo spoke with the voice of an adult. “I can wait a couple of years.”

“If I thought you needed…”

“It’s the least I can do.” Theo smiled and stood up, releasing Hasson from self-imposed obligations. “I’m going away myself, you know. I talked it over with Mum last night and she says she has plenty of room for me in Vancouver.” “That’s great,” Hasson said awkwardly. “Listen, Theo. I’ll go out there some time and see you. Okay?”

“It’s fine with me.” The boy smiled again, too polite to show his disbelief, shook hands with Hasson and left the room.

Hasson watched him depart, then returned to the task of loading his panniers with the essentials for a protracted solo flight. He had no fixed destination in mind — only an instinctive need to travel south and west, to begin his new life by pitting himself against the ancient curving vastness of the Pacific Ocean, to atone for the years he had wasted in parochialism and conformity by losing himself in domains where time and history had established no beachheads. A few minutes later — all preparations completed, all regrets put aside — he took off into the still blue air above Tripletree, and went for a long walk in the sky.