Adam Henein is an engaging interlocutor, but his quizzical blue eyes are always elsewhere. He responds immediately, playfully, more like a 30-year-old than a 70-year-old. Everything he says he relates to the person he is addressing, with unpredictable wit, often very light-hearted. But, despite the charm with which he arrests his companions, there is a sense that he talks to you with only a fraction of his concentration, that the deeply personal feelings he is about to communicate are but shadows of an inner reality hidden from everyone, perhaps even himself. There is, too, something fundamentally down-to-earth, an almost streetwise sense of what is appropriate, which, one suspects, has allowed him to pursue his interests without incurring a loss of his integrity.