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They were several students thronging around the huts the next hour, and I silently prayed that Halee would not allow herself to be distracted.
For the next two hours, I answered questions from Halee’s notebook and textbook. When darkness began to creep in, Halee drew closer to me and I inhaled her mild perfume. The bulbs in the hut where we were weren’t too bright, and Halee seemed happy and comfortable about that singular fact.
“Any other question, Halee?”
“Yes Pierre. Tell me… why do you make yourself so elusive, like The Jackal, in Frederick Forsyth’s novel?”
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