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From the half-obscured side of his face that she could glimpse, she saw his solemnity and sorrow.
As she watched several cars slowly depart, Charlotte Green, like someone deprived of oxygen, slid down in front of the raindrop-covered French window, hugging her knees tightly.
Today didn't seem to go well; it kept raining. And he, in his solemn yet sorrowful way, who was he going to meet?
That's right! The deed of transfer!
Charlotte suddenly remembered something important, pushed the hair from her forehead with a sweep of her hand, and got up to walk quickly to the Study Room.
She cautiously opened the door to the Study Room and was hit by a smell of cigarette smoke.
She frowned slightly, as if she could see, in last night's Study Room lit only by a desk lamp, that tall and straight figure standing in front of the French window, gazing into the dark night outside, smoking one cigarette after another.
What did May the 28th really mean to him?
