Chris spoke to him in Greek.
“France,” said Jan, looking up into my eyes.
“Where did he come from, Chris?”
“Norfolk.”
That was the first time I saw Jan Pier.
A Frenchman—an auburn-haired Frenchman—with bright eyes, working for a Greek and with an Afro-American shoeblack!
How could it be?
A week later, Jan Pier, with downcast look, soiled clothes, and tear-stained cheeks, came to me, silently begging.
“What is the matter?” I asked.
“Me no work; no mon; no friends.”