    Pierre was lost for words. He
smiled. With an outstretched hand he
managed a "bon jour."
    Barb almost choked. Of all the
rotten luck, she had to travel all the
way to El Salvador just to meet a lousy
francophone. And she, an avowed anti-
-French ....gad .... what luck!
    The itch between her lower extre-
mities bade her to be polite. Left hand
fumbling to button her bra, she sat
up, right hand meeting his with a
cheery "good morning."
    Calice; Sacrement! A separatist
with an anglo! .... geezaz kryst, what
will Parizeau say about this!
