“Which two? You are familiar with the English language, I hope?” He though he was at odds with an immigrant’s knowledge of English. “Saying �...which two’ implies that there are more, and there can’t be.”“Incorrect reasoning, my man. In this household, my husband has six wives, so if you ask about ‘both’, you presumably wish to speak to a specific pairing, do you not?”Prendergast stared at this woman with an Indian cast to her skin, but with perfect English, and despaired.“Six wives? That is. He looked about my age, early-twenties, with dark eyes and a rough dusting of beard. “What you want?” he asked, hoarsely, as if his grief caught in his throat. “I heard you, I… I don’t know, I guess I was just concerned.” He turned back to the grave and I crept up behind him to look at it. Marie Louise Emmett, dead just two weeks, lay beneath the soil by his knees. “You wife?” I asked crouching beside him. “My sister,” he said. “My little sister.” I looked at the dates again and realised the. More

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