Mr. Ennison, if at all,” Anna declared calmly. ” A man who had been sitting with his hat tilted over his eyes at an adjacent table had risen to his feet and stood suddenly before them. Her confession was still unmade. “He has a stubbly yellow moustache, weak eyes, and great horrid hands. “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. He had dungarees on and a blue work shirt. He had not noticed the girl particularly when she offered the sandwiches; but in this moment he found her beautiful.
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