He kept his keen eyes steadily fixed on Thames, as if awaiting to be addressed. ‘Is that a gesture of friendship?’ She stamped her foot. Perhaps what urged her interest in the young man's direction was the dead whiteness of his face, the puffed eyelids and the bloodshot whites. It would be the wrappered world almost at its best. It was long and narrow, a well-lit, wellventilated, quiet gallery of small tables and sinks, pervaded by a thin smell of methylated spirit and of a mitigated and sterilized organic decay. Sydney Courtlaw, live here, please?” Anna asked him.
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