Just speak the word," he added, drawing the knife significantly across his throat, "and I'll put it out of his power to do the same by your second. He drove her home that night, kissing her again and again at stoplights. Of you, I mean. Every so often a wall of water, thin and jadecoloured, would rise up over the port bow, hesitate, and fall smacking amidships. She ignored his question. He laughed at her heartily, and she laughed too as she had not for a year. If it is that I am in the least French, and that you do not like it—’ ‘I don’t like it,’ snapped the old man.
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