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224 pages, Mass Market Paperback
First published January 1, 1996
"He had slightly wavy black hair with not a trace of grey in it, possibly dyed.
"He wore his hair combed back, like a fighter pilot or a French actor in a black-and-white movie.
"He was good-looking, genial and, moreover, extraordinarily polite.
"He was a vain man, indulgent and easy-going, but slightly disdainful of his own children, especially his own sons who weren’t as intelligent or handsome as their father.
"He was much vainer than a woman, you know. He had that foolish masculine pride.
"He’s got the face of a rich man.
"He behaved like a spendthrift and he rarely deprived himself of anything he fancied, at least not with witnesses present.
"He had enough money to pay for his vital pleasures.
"He’s a complete scoundrel, and I get on very well with him. I laughed at his malice, though his tongue was his only weapon. He wasn’t a fighter, even if he could sound aggressive.
"He was one of those men you know you will never be able to confide in, but one in whom you can confidently trust.
"He’s a man of great resourcefulness. He is the instigator, and it will happen when he says it will happen.
"He possessed a certain degree of worldly wisdom which he enjoyed showing off.
"He was an energetic, jokey person who spoke in a rather low voice, in order to underline the irony that all women love.
"He had only to discover that there was an interesting woman in the vicinity for him to start oozing virility and getting terribly full of himself. All a bit animalesque really.
"When he saw a woman he liked the look of, he would make a gesture that makes of her a thing.
"He delighted in tenuous, ephemeral, clandestine contact.
"He would sometimes look at something as if he were touching it, and this would sometimes cause offence.
"Although he claimed to hate men who hurt women, perhaps his gesture was just the reminder some men like to give women that they could hurt them if they wanted to."
i often used to pretend i believed in ghosts, and i did so blithely, but now that i am myself a ghost, i understand why, traditionally, they are depicted as mournful creatures who stubbornly return to the places they knew when they were mortal. for they do return. very rarely are they or we noticed, the houses we lived in have changed and the people who live in them do not even know of our past existence, they cannot even imagine it: like children, these men and women believe that the world began with their birth, and they never wonder if, on the ground they tread, others once trod with lighter steps or with fateful footfalls, if between the walls that shelter them others heard whispers or laughter, or if someone once read a letter out loud, or strangled the person he most loved.