Chapter 16
Stanislaus Jean, chevalier de Boufflers, once wrote: “Pleasure is the flower that passes; remembrance, the lasting perfume.” How can it be that our pleasure is as fleeting as the flower? –DB
12 August, 1940 - Los Angeles, California
Danielle stood in the middle of a squalid one-room apartment near downtown Los Angeles. The smell of rancid grease and human feces hung in the air. She wrinkled her nose. Fried food and diapers, Danielle thought, pinpointing the aromas. Only the price of the room was right.
She’d exchanged French francs that morning and received few U.S. dollars in return. Philippe had given her what money he could spare, and she had taken her mother’s jewelry from Paris, but her funds wouldn’t last long. She turned to the landlord of the Bradley Arms building. “
