“I was arguing with Mawhinney about Vietnam,” George said. “I think he hoped to persuade me as a way of indirectly getting to Bobby.”

“I’m sure of it,” said Maria. “But the president isn’t going to give in to the Pentagon on this.”

“How do you know?”

“He’s making a speech tonight saying that there are limits to what we can achieve in foreign policy. We cannot right every wrong or reverse every adversity. I’ve just written the press release for the speech.”

“I’m glad he’s going to stand firm.”

“George, you didn’t hear what I said. I wrote a press release! Don’t you understand how unusual that is? Normally the men write them. The women just type them out.”

George grinned. “Congratulations.” He was happy to be with her, and they had quickly slipped back into their friendly relationship.

“Mind you, I’ll find out what they think of it when I get back to the office. What’s happening at Justice?”

“It looks like our Freedom Ride really achieved something,” George said eagerly. “Soon all interstate buses will have a sign saying: ‘Seating aboard this vehicle is without regard to race, color, creed, or national origin.’ The same words have to be printed on bus tickets.” He was proud of this achievement. “How about that?”

“Well done.” But Maria asked the key question. “Will the ruling be enforced?”

“That’s up to us in Justice, and we’re trying harder than ever before. We’ve already acted several times to oppose the authorities in Mississippi and Alabama. And a surprising number of towns in other states are just giving in.”

“It’s hard to believe we’re really winning. The segregationists always seem to have another dirty trick in reserve.”

“Voter registration is our next campaign. Martin Luther King wants to double the number of black voters in the South by the end of the year.”

Maria said thoughtfully: “What we really need is a new civil rights bill that makes it difficult for Southern states to defy the law.”

“We’re working on that.”

“So you’re telling me Bobby Kennedy is a civil rights supporter?”

“Hell, no. A year ago the issue wasn’t even on his agenda. But Bobby and the president hated those photographs of white mob violence in the South. They made the Kennedys look bad on the front pages of newspapers all over the world.”

“And global politics is what they really care about.”

“Exactly.”

George wanted to ask her for a date, but he held back. He was going to break up with Norine Latimer as soon as possible: that was inevitable, now that Maria was here. But he felt he had to tell Norine their romance was over before he asked Maria out. Anything else would seem dishonest. And the delay would not be long: he would see Norine within a few days.

They entered the West Wing. Black faces in the White House were unusual enough for people to stare at them. They went to the press office. George was surprised to find it a small room jammed with desks. Half a dozen people worked intently with gray Remington typewriters and phones with rows of flashing lights. From an adjoining room came the chatter of teletype machines, punctuated by the bells they rang to herald particularly important messages. There was an inner office that George presumed must belong to press secretary Pierre Salinger.