I don’t know. She wore a black satin dress, a little shiny at the seams, a purposeless bow of white tulle at the back of her neck, and a huge chatelaine. To simplify matters, he carried a coloured paper lantern upon which his license number was painted in Arabic numerals. She gathered stones to place upon the makeshift grave. ‘To read and write, of course, and to sew. ‘Would you care for some refreshment? A glass of wine, perhaps?’ ‘Nothing, merci, I do not remain,’ she answered, although she did not rise. “Don’t you have a wife? Where are your children?” She asked. “The aces made it easy.
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