10By three-thirty, Coulon had had enough of the office. The workers kept talking about André, and when Coulon went into his office and shut the door, just knowing they were out there still talking was making him crazy. So with a falsely cheerful wave he said his goodbyes, inventing a story about something pressing he needed to do at home, even though if he had left without a word no one would have given it a thought.
On the short walk home, he daydreamed about Josette’s staying to have dinner with him. Her brother was sometimes late; maybe today he wouldn’t show up at all and they could have a nice, intimate dinner together, and then he could gallantly drive her home. Or even invite her to spend the night.
Coulon paused at his front steps, considering what to do for the rest of the after
