She sat there wondering what he meant. ‘It doesn’t get any better than this,’ but he wasn’t smiling. It was as if it was a question, a complaint. Was it sarcasm? Are Norwegians sarcastic? Are engineers, Norwegian engineers? He had a craggy face, and a rusty beard, which made it impossible to read him. She searched for a twinkle in his eyes. Maybe there was one, but what did that mean? It could be kindly, or bastardly.
How long would it take her to know him?
Every four years a new one, from head office.
Anne had been great.
