She had found the location of his firm on the internet on a library computer, tracing him to this place in New York where he practiced criminal law. “Here we are,” he said, “shining through each other like light through a stained-glass window. Tell me how are you amusing yourself?” Anna laughed. Dollis Hill revisited 324 XII. She had remained patently unavailable to him. What hotel should she go to? If she told a cabman to drive to an hotel, any hotel, what would he do—or say? He might drive to something dreadfully expensive, and not at all the quiet sort of thing she required.
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