"Good morning, Tristan", says Sarah, rather carefully. He chooses to ignore her.
"Tristan", says Carl with forced conviviality "Will you join us for coffee?"
"I don't have time. The taxi will be here in less than fifteen minutes."
"Taxi?" says Sarah, incredulously.
Tristan produces his backpack, as though for inspection.
"You're leaving us?" she says.
"You drove out our teacher. How can I stay", and his chin appears to tremble, as though he is trying not to cry.
"Excuse me", says Sarah, "Are you not at all aware of what he did to Father Francois?"
"He was his slave. Brother Douglas had a right."
"I am not going to dignify that with a reply." And Sarah is ablaze with indignation.
"I will wait outside", says Tristan. He backs away while putting on his pack, then turns and walks away. He seems awfully young, still in his twenties, with a particularly childlike face framed by dark wavy hair. R like a sullen and hurt little boy whom you would rather wrap your arms around than scold and rebuke...
"
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