No, I'm afraid not. I worked it all out on paper once. There's a thirty-year age difference, I think. Or twenty. Or something.

I hate you.

Eddy couldn't imagine what the Frenchman wanted with him. He was minding his own business, wasn't he? But he answered, irritably, drawing himself as high as he could and jamming his hands in his pockets. The other fellow grabbed him suddenly and embraced him, and Eddy began at once to protest loudly.
He couldn't know how much the Frenchman was missing his brother.