tanding at the top of the game larder steps, the keeper leant against a wooden rail and rolled a cigarette. The lingering scent of Holland House tobacco from the squire’s cherry wood pipe had put him in the mood for a smoke. The squire and his guests always paid the game larder a visit at the day’s end. One by one they had thanked the keeper with a generous handshake, received their brace, wished him and his family a happy Christmas and, with a port-induced complexion, headed
