Page "fiction" Paragraph 432

Rather than sit around waiting for the suitcases to be delivered, they had gone sight-seeing.

They went to the Flea Market, expecting to find the treasures of Europe, and found instead a duplication of that long double row of booths in Tours.

Cheap clothing and junk of every sort, as far as the eye could see.

They looked, even so.

Looked at everything.

Barbara bought some cotton aprons, and Harold bought shoestrings.

They had lunch at a sidewalk cafe overlooking the intersection of two broad, busy, unpicturesque streets, and coming home they got lost in the Metro ; ;

it took them over an hour to get back to the station where they should have changed, in order to take the line that went to the Place Redoute.

It was the end of the afternoon when he took the huge key out of his pocket and inserted it into the keyhole.

When he opened the door, there stood Eugene, on his way out of the apartment.

He was wearing sneakers and shorts and an open-collared shirt, and in his hand he carried a little black bag.

He did not explain where he was going, and they did not ask.

Instead, they went on down the hall to their room.