She could smell the savory tinge of his sweat in the air. Then she looked at her aunt, and traced with a curious eye the careful arrangement of her hair, her sharp nose, the little drooping lines of mouth and chin and cheek. ‘Come, I told you I wish to know everything about you. The stretch of red dirt disappeared into a stretch of trees like Van Gogh’s painting. As he passed out he saw in the hall a quietly dressed man with keen grey eyes, talking to one of the footmen. She felt this was the sensible way out of this oddly sinister situation. She could hardly remember his face except for his brown hair, thick lips, and narrow dark eyes. .
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