“If you come a step nearer to me,” she said, “I will smash every glass on this table. “I can’t conceive what you want. Below her stretched a valley of rich meadowland, of yellow cornfields, and beyond moorland hillside glorious with purple heather and golden gorse. “Why are you so distant? Why all the mystery? What are you, a narc? Double-oh-seven or something?” She steeled herself, refusing to react. Brendon told him the name of a distant restaurant and sprang in by her side. "Good-b'ye!" And with a cordial shake of the hand he took his departure.
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