“All this money,” he said. “Tell me – did you earn it or…”

“Of course not!” she said with a withering look. “You can’t earn real money – you inherit it. My parents died in a plane crash when they were visiting one of their mines in Africa. I was their only child. So… forget London if you don’t like it. We could go to Paris, Rome, wherever you want… We could charter a yacht – do the Med – fly some of your friends over to join us. Whatever…”

7.3

Pierre nosed the jeep into the P.M’s winter retreat in Mumbai.

“I must say, I’ve enjoyed watching you change,” he said.

“I haven’t changed.”

“Oh yes you have,” Pierre said. “You’ve opened your mind.”

When it stopped the P.M. made no move to leave the vehicle. It had been an unusual day, a day he was in no particular hurry to end.

“If there was a turning point today, it probably came much earlier than you’d think. With that graph you showed me. It’s so simple, but nobody can deny the fact that there are degrees of happiness. I fluctuate all over the place. But I now see what Max was thinking when he drew the lines. What if the graph measured not merely the mood of the individual, but the mood of the planet?

The P. M. took out the card Pierre had given him and drew some lines on the graph.

“Theoretically, normal could become bliss.”