Jeannette shook her head.
"No tears," he said.
At that she gave him a special smile: her girlishness struck him, made him shiver, made him wonder how long it could last. To hide his consternation he said:
"Are you coming along with me?"
"Of course I am."
"Our car's parked at the rear of the depot," Claude said. "How are you?" The question came with a genuine sense of concern.
Orville simply nodded.
The bearded face seemed unchanged.
Sitting in the car, Jeannette kissed Orville consolingly, understanding his fatigue, ruling out his greasy mechanic's uniform, his unshaven face, peasant cap: as they drove the short distance to the Ronde's, he said very little, but he did admit it had been "a rotten trip ... I tried phoning you from Paris, but I couldn't get through" ... it was easier to sit and stare at the village, at things he knew; Jean guessed the state of his mind.
He asked about Lena again.