Women are lawless George', she had told him once, when they lay in rare peace. 'So what am I?' he has asked, and she said 'My law'. 'So what was Haydon?' he had asked. And she laughed and said, 'My anarchy.

You could be the perfect spy. All you need is a cause.

Spying is waiting.

He was learning to live on several planes at once. The art of it was to forget everything except the ground you stood on and the face you spoke from at that moment.