” 189 “Are you feeling okay?” She could feel a parade of ants dotting her skin. . The young man opposite was straining his ears to listen to their conversation. ‘Please to sit, monsieur. Curiosity held her by one hand, urging her to recklessness, and caution held her by the other. On the floor, underneath the sixth row desks, was an ashtray with a small black dot of blood on its blunt round corner. It was one of those old sliding trap affairs, narrow and steep of descent. ’ ‘I still think you ought to have waited, miss. ” “Why not?” she asked quietly. ” He was intrigued.
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