Back in Arromanches, he did what any reasonable person would have done as soon as he discovered that his money had run out.

NEWYORKER: ?lvaro Rousselot��s Journey

He booked himself into the best hotel he could find in Arromanches, a pile made of brick, stone, and wood, which creaked in the gusting wind.

NEWYORKER: ?lvaro Rousselot��s Journey

The owner, a cadaverously pale guy with red hair, suggested he go to Arromanches, unless he wanted to sleep in one of the auberges that stayed open all year round.

NEWYORKER: ?lvaro Rousselot��s Journey

He felt as if he had committed a reprehensible act, executed a reprehensible gesture, but then, as he was walking back to Arromanches, everything he had done in Paris, every gesture and action, seemed reprehensible, futile, senseless, and even ridiculous.

NEWYORKER: ?lvaro Rousselot��s Journey