He wore a French military undress of the period, with high jack-boots, and a laced hat; and, though his attire indicated no particular rank, he had completely the air of a person of distinction. He knew she had been weeping. “Drugs, mainly. Presently he caught her puzzled glance, and recollected himself, turning on the charm again. She went about the familiar home with a clearer and clearer sense of inevitable conclusions. It feels like I’ve got a snake of mucus stuffing my entire throat, just one big solid rope. Why, then, did he touch it? As he climbed heavily into his chair, she was able to note the little beads of sweat under the cracked nether lip. She looked directly at his face, his perpetually graying hair, his hawkish nose, his long cheekbones.
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