confusion.
"I'm going home," I said.
"Home? Where's home?"
"I'm returning to Houma, if you must know," I
said. "Now, if you will be so kind as to let me go, I--" "Houma? What?" He stared at me a moment
and then, instead of releasing me, he seized my other
arm at the elbow and turned me fully around so that I
would be in the center of the pool of light created by
the street lamp. He studied me for a moment, those
soft eyes, now troubled and intense as he swept his
gaze over my face. "You do look . . different," he
muttered. "And not in cosmetic ways either. I don't
understand, Gisselle."
"I told you," I said. "I'm not anyone named
Gisselle. My name is Ruby. I come from Houma." He continued to stare, but still held me at the
elbows. Then he shook his head and smiled again. "Come on, Gisselle. I'm sorry I'm a little late,
but you're carrying this too far. I admit it's a great
costume and disguise. What else do you want from
me?" he pleaded.
"I'd like you to let go of my arms," I said. He
did so and stepped back, his confusion now becoming
indignation and anger.
"What's going on here?" he demanded. I took a
deep breath and looked back at the house. "If you're
not Gisselle, then what were you doing in front of the
house? Why are you on this street?"
"I was going to knock on the door and
introduce myself to Pierre Dumas, but I've changed
my mind," I said.
"Introduce yourself to. . ." He shook his head