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were sipping coffee, she said, "Look, Larry, I want to know more about this. I want to know more about this girl who took your passport."
    He looked away and she imagined he was shuffling his feet.
    "Well, ma'am, I guess you've done enough for me for me to lay it on the line, but I guess it's kind of embarrassing." He stared down at his hands, frowning. "You see, ma'am, every so often I have to have a woman." He pulled at the peak of his cap. This time she hadn't reminded him to take it off. "I get this urge, and it gets too much for me." Again he dragged at the peak of his cap. "Excuse me. You asked me ... I'm laying it on the line. I hope you will understand."
    Yes, I understand, she thought, you get this urge from time to time. I'm never free of it!
    "Of course, Larry ... was she a pro?" He nodded, not looking at her.
    "Yeah. It got pretty hairy. Two guys broke in, and there was a punch–up. They sure handled me and they threw me out." He looked at her, then away. "I guess I was lucky to keep my trousers."
    She searched his face for any signs of a fight, but found none. She felt compassion. She understood he didn't want to admit to her that some cheap little whore had robbed him of everything he owned.
    There was no point in pressing this, she decided. It really wasn't important. He was just a kid ... kids did things like this. The important thing was his passport.
    "Well, Larry, we are now in Switzerland," she said. "You have no passport. What are you going to do?"
    "I guess I've got to have a passport." He fingered the peak of his cap, then he flushed. "Goddamn it! I'm still wearing this goddamn thing!" He tore the cap off his head and stuffed it under his thigh. "Excuse me, ma'am. I guess I'm a hick. I just don't know when I'm wearing it."
    "How do you get another passport?" she asked. "What was this you said about ... Ron?"
    He shifted in his seat.
    "Well, he gave me an address right here, ma'am. It costs, but I can get around to that." He leaned forward, resting his big hands on the table and looked directly at her. "Look, ma'am, you've done enough for me. Thank you for everything. Thank you for getting me through the frontier. Thank you for this meal. You've been great! Now, I'm on my own. From now on, you don't have to think of me. I'll manage." She regarded him steadily.
    "That was a very pretty speech, Larry, but I think you have been watching too much television. Your next line, set against a fading sunset should be,
    "And thanks for the memory, but this is goodbye"."
He turned beetroot red as he gaped at her.
"What was that again, ma'am?"
    She took from her bag her gold cigarette case and lit a cigarette with her gold Dunhill.
    "I go so far, Larry, but don't push it. I don't kid easily. If you want to be on your own, then get up and go. If you want to manage on your own so bravely, I'm not stopping you, but don't give me this corny dialogue ... do I make myself clear?"
    He reached for the peak of his cap, but not finding it, he ran his fingers through his hair.
    "Excuse me, ma'am. I didn't mean a come–on. Honest ... I'm just a hick... excuse me."
    She sat still, her eyes cold and searching as she regarded him.
    "If you want to be on your own, Larry, get up right now and get out of here!"
    He flinched, then rubbed his chin with the back of his hand and she could see sweat beads forming on his forehead.
    "I don't want to go, ma'am ... excuse me."
    "All right, but don't ever try to con me again, Larry," she said quietly. "I know it all. I've seen it all. While you were feeding the hens, I was in the middle of a jungle where men with fifty times your brain–power were cutting each other's throat. The biggest throat cutter of them all was and still is my husband. Let's get this straight. I like you ... you're a nice refreshing kid, but don't try to con me." He nodded. "I didn't mean to ... honest, ma'am."
    "All right. Now tell me what your friend told you about getting a passport."
    Unhappily and without much