“So, since when does a grown man have to sneak behind the Laundromat to smoke a cigarette?” She asked 115 him. He had grabbed a tiny remote control and flew the thing around the table, landing it there and turning it off. Lucy inhaled deeply. It was his belief that the French had enough troubles of their own in these difficult times without bothering to nose out British business. “You must come and see me some afternoon,” she said to him. Her eyes glistened in the darkness—for light was only admitted through a small grated window—like flames, and, as she fixed them on him, their glances seemed to penetrate his very soul.
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