’ ‘What for?’ asked Gerald, half laughing, as he put his hand in his pocket and brought out his elegant pistol. She closed the book that she had been pretending to read and gathered her black umbrella and her backpack, a childish accoutrement she despised. Smiling, the Chinaman gave the correct pronunciation. It said: Got news for you about J. A dreamy sense of content crept over him. And who knew if the men that Gerald had posted there would follow her to protect her somewhere else? In truth, where were these soldiers? She could not see them, although she assiduously searched the mist-shrouded square from the vantage point of the bay window in the large first floor room which had become her headquarters. “It’s the stir of spring,” he said.
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