“Don’t you know, child, that this is torture for me? What in God’s name more can you have to tell me?” Her face had become almost like a marble image. The brown house, almost exactly the same as the Beck’s, turned black as pitch in the gloom. His movements became quicker, and she made grinding motions with her hips that began to please her as well. ‘To what do you go, mademoiselle? The life of a nun in a convent, in a country where nuns are unwelcome. Come now, I am very glad to see you again so soon, mademoiselle whatever-your-name-is. The bus however was full. What of it?” There was a shout of laughter. “Unless you have an appointment, which you haven’t,” he said, “you’ll only waste your time here. If she had once known him, if he were some former neighbour, it would be comprehensible. Even the stars were strangers.
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