’ ‘For shame, Hilary,’ admonished his fiancée, casting a pitying glance at the refugees. Never glance sideways at man. Hadn’t the stomach to admit the truth, had he? I’ll lay any money he labelled you with some foul French name as well. Not a bad man as men go, but he would sell whisky and gin. 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. Wood," she continued, with a sudden change of tone, and convulsively clutching the carpenter's arm, "promise it me. It did so well that they sold it in the nineties.
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