They walked slowly down the street at about ten in the evening, talking calmly.
In the window above them, on the second floor, a shade was raised. A man about thirty-five years old, with a touch of gray at either temple, sad gray eyes, and a small thin mustache looked down at them.
"Then I’ll buy another Rio ticket for your wife.”
She put her hand to her cheek. Someone had just kissed it. She shivered and looked up.