"Not at all!" the ambassador replied.
Seeing Stanhope Brown light a cigarette, the Ambassador spoke up: "Today, after your meeting with the US President, the US Secretary of State invited me to his office, and the Americans hope for this negotiation..."
Grace Gordon got out of the taxi and stood outside the hotel entrance, hesitating to go in.
Under the faint street lamp, the thin rain took on an orange hue, making it seem even clearer.
Grace didn't have an umbrella; she just stood alone under the street lamp, hands in her pockets, head down, lost in thought.
What had just happened at the hospital hadn't quite sunk in for Grace yet.
The rain grew heavier, but Grace stood still as if she had no sensation of it whatsoever.
With her head down, her cheeks showed no emotion, and the shadows of her fine lashes cast a fan-shaped shadow on her fair face.
Across the street, the rear window of a black car was half-rolled down, and a wisp of white smoke drifted out from the car.
