Both of our bills came at the same time. He whipped out a wad of cash and thumbed through it before throwing down the amount, plus (it appeared from my close calculations) a generous tip. He darted his eyes at me one more time, perhaps searing into his memory my pulchritude, perhaps creating a mental mug shot for future avoidance.

I signed my credit card receipt and then put my copy in my book, to hold my place. I would add it to the growing pile of books with similar tongues hanging out, reading material that is good to take along with you in public and then discard the minute you get home. More on that in Chapter Three.

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