The princess turned queen was at the helm. The rest of the family was falling apart, cracking like a house with mud for mortar being tested at the hands of a relentless storm. Ties forged by the red liquid from whence life is was proving that blood was not thicker than the colorless liquid from which life depends. They say the love of money is the root of all evil. They probably are right.
Pritchard had ventured away from the home and had befriended the bottle. Harvey wasn't here anymore. He was off somewhere on the shore within the boundaries of Mauritius, sipping cocktails from glasses with open miniature umbrellas. He was in the company of strangers, but it could be argued strongly that it was better that way. Pritchard was exhibit A, then the case rested.
