“I am naturalized French. My passport is valid for Germany.”
“Yes, that was what I wanted to know.”
She nodded but did not say anything. One could be patient with the slow-witted, but one was not obliged to pander to them.
Several sentences came to the tip of George’s tongue at that moment, most of them designed to bring the interview to an abrupt conclusion. He swallowed them. Just because she wouldn’t pretend to be stupider or more eager for the work than she really was, he didn’t have to insult the woman. She had an unfortunate manner. All right! Did that make her a bad interpreter? And what did he expect her to do? Cringe?
He offered her a cigarette.
She shook her head. “Thank you, I prefer these.” She brought out a packet of Gitanes.
He struck a match for her. “Are there any questions about the job you would like to ask me?” he said.
“Yes.” She blew smoke out. “Have you had any experience of using an interpreter, Mr. Carey?”
“None at all.”
“I see. Do you speak any German?”