Since my arrival, I had entered the restaurant several times to check for her presence. We had agreed to meet at the Hard Rock Café at 5 p.m. Had I got it wrong? I peered at my watch. It was already five-thirty. We did talk about the Uptown, I recalled. But I’m sure we agreed on the Biltmore cinema. My gaze stretched across Yonge and Dundas Streets to the Biltmore’s marquee: “Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid.” Cigarette smoke and stale cigarette but...