She considered for a moment, then replied. “My husband works at the DGSI.” I gazed at her in wonder. It was the first time, in all the ten years I’d known her, that I realized she had once been a woman—that she still was a woman, in a sense—and that once upon a time a man had felt desire for this squat, stumpy, almost froglike little thing. Fortunately, she misread my look. “I know,” she said, with satisfaction. “Everyone’s always surprised … You do know what the DGSI is, don’t you?”
