‘It is seldom enough I am visited by anyone at all, let alone a personable young redcoat. Courtlaw sat with folded arms. She donned her fuzzy slippers and traipsed downstairs, the welcoming smell of coffee beckoning her, the sound of Looney Toons music barely audible from the television set. His father was one of my old customers, and I am happy to find his son treading in his steps. He had his sections of the Siegfried map folded in his pocket, and he squatted up with his legs crossed like an Indian idol while she lay prone beside him and followed every movement of his indicatory finger. They were in different key, they had a different timbre.
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