’ ‘Oh yes, yes. ‘You mean that his missus is pretending to be my mistress? Lord-a-mercy!’ ‘Precisely. It was a port of call, since fortnightly a British mail-boat dropped her mudhook in the bay. “Garçon,” he said, “will you ask the gentleman at the next table if he will do me the honour of taking a glass of wine with me. She wanted to return his gaze but focused intently on a spot next to and above the brick fireplace, as her music teachers had always taught her to do instead of looking directly at the audience.
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