For when this Joan said it, I had a memory. “I got Sydney’s telegram at ten o’clock, and caught the ten-thirty from the Gare du Nord. I don't know anything about you. It might have been the moon, or the phosphorescence of the broken water, or it might have been his abysmal loneliness; but suddenly he caught her face in his hands and kissed her on the mouth. “That’s not working so well for you, is it?” She looked at him sheepishly, bringing a Kleenex out of her pocket to wipe away the excess. And the fact that it was dressed in riding gear had fooled her into thinking it was her own image. ’ Upon which, she darted through the library door, galvanising both the sergeant and his two militiamen into action.
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