Baldheaded Thomassont poked through magazines; Lena, dressed in a sedate brown skirt and yellow blouse, chatted softly with Celeste, a pretty woman wearing lavender trimmed with squirrel: her serious face was painted dramatically over the eyes; the cheeks were ivory white, her mouth sensual. Presently, she approached Orville.
"Is it like home, coming back?" she asked; she held out a cigarette.
"A little that way," he said, flipping his lighter for her.
"We came by to ask Lena to a party we're giving at my place in Senlis. I'd like to have you come; we can drive over and pick you up. It's my birthday."
"When is your birthday?"
"Next Friday."
"My leave will be over by then ... I'll be in Germany."
"Oh ... I'm sorry." She took his hand to say good-bye. "It's risky, bypassing the Nazis ... I despise them ... my brother has been imprisoned ... my mother's Jewish ... I hate all this ... Paris is dreadful ... I wish you luck."
"The war will be over in a day or two," cut in Thomassont, waving a magazine.
"Good-bye, Orville ... Mother knows you ... you see I was in Switzerland when you were here ... we're pretty drunk; next time when we come..." She smiled a sincere, warm smile.