
Anyone less likely to climb out of a shabby, broken-down caravan was hard to imagine. He was beautifully dressed in a silk shirt, a blue linen jacket and impeccably creased fawn trousers, and his black hair was crisply cut in a way I could see was expensive. He seemed older than the rest of us - I thought fifteen, at least - and the only gypsy thing about him were the dark, dark eyes in his confident, good-looking face.
- Conrad’s Fate (2005)