There was something about their greeting and the tone of Annabel’s exclamation which puzzled her. “He means nothing!” She whispered loudly. ‘I haven’t been so much entertained since I left the Army. It seemed an emblem of the ruin he had caused. \" Michelle drifted into a reverie. In his muscular pudgy hand was a photograph, frayed at the corners, soiled from the contact of many hands: the portrait of a youth of eighteen. She taught him how to sail a proa, how to hack open a milk-coconut, how to relish bamboo sprouts. It did seem germane to the matter that so many of the people “in the van” were plain people, or faded people, or tired-looking people. Lucy snatched it up and put it in her pack. It was a haunted place. “Here is my card. I will be as silent as the grave.
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