She'd been foolish to follow him here. Good God, to the Himalayas! It was like the plot of a bad movie. She would sit flicking the ash of her cigarette held in a cloissane and gold holder. Her hair would be pulled back into a chignon. Her lips shellacked ruby red. She'd be dressed in a white linen suit with strapped kidskin heels on her feet.

It was a bad movie. A bad dream.