“It’s a strange little place—you might find it fun. The newsreels used to be about two years old and I shouldn’t think it’s changed any. And the same features come back over and over again. Cimarron and the Gold Diggers of 1930 and oh—last year we saw a travelogue, Come to Sunny Andalusia, by way of news from Spain—”
“Blimey,” Hugh said.
“And the lighting is always failing.”
“I think I’ve seen the Peter Lorre movie somewhere. He’s a great actor but it’s a lousy picture. Your horse doesn’t want to drink, Yvonne. It’s all about a pianist who has a sense of guilt because he thinks his hands are a murderer’s or something and keeps washing the blood off them. Perhaps they really are a murderer’s but I forget.”
“It sounds creepy.”
“I know, but it isn’t.”
On the other side of the river thei
