Stir a foot, and I strike. Old farmhouses loomed as they whizzed by, left behind in the gray like mourners. ‘Where is Gérard?’ ‘Out of town,’ Hilary said briefly. ‘That’s right, you bone idle do-nothings. No one. As she started, rearing up her head, a hand stole about her mouth and closed down hard. “You are an impostor. ‘It is Yol—’ She broke off abruptly, her face collapsing into an expression of acute consternation. She always dawdled, so it was easy. She had braved all obstacles to pursue her dream. That is what marriage is to most young women: the ultimate escape from the family, from the unwritten laws that govern children. You see, I’m separated from my wife.
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