He lived on the seventh floor behind a winding set of hallways that towered over her in their grayness. Deep verandas ran around the bungalows, with bamboo drops which were always down in the daytime, fending off the treacherous sunshine. His voice when he spoke was almost fiercely assertive, but there was an undernote of nervousness. That bruise will answer the same purpose. ‘Thought you were going to break in here,’ he said, in an impatient whisper. His lovely black eyes softened until they became like languid as the night sky. ‘Let us go elsewhere and discuss the matter.
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