“I don’t know what happened at the Civil Liberties,” she said, standing and laying a hand on Damon’s arm, as if to prevent whatever was to happen if she could, “but surely your friendship is more important—and talking about it won’t help, Edward. You know very well it won’t.” She tried to look into Edward’s eyes, but he was looking down. She might have been pleading with a stone. He was locked somewhere deep down inside himself. He was not to be touched. “Sit down, Damon,” she said almost roughly, “please sit down both of you.” This time it was a command.

“I came here to say good-bye.” Edward didn’t move.

“No,” Julia’s voice rang out firmly, “you can’t do that, Edward. It’s not fair—and what’s more it’s childish. One doesn’t break off a friendship like ours over a political disagreement.” She stood in the center of the room, and she was trembling with anger and revolt.

“I do not honestly think it a strength, nor wisdom, to be as dogmatic as you have become, Edward. It’s too much like fanaticism.” Damon said this quite quietly—it was a sentence he had evidently been preparing in his mind.

“This is a matter of principle,” Edward answered at once. “If the intellectuals can’t stand together now on principle, then it’s just too bad.”

“Oh damn the intellectuals,” said Julia, “let’s be human beings.”

“Exactly,” Edward turned to her. “As human beings we cannot afford to start telling tales, snooping and spying on each other, writing letters assuring perfect strangers that none of our friends are Communists——”

“Some of my best friends are Communists,” Damon interrupted. He could not resist the joke, but it was a mistake. You don’t joke when a man stands up in your house, raw with wounds.

“It’s not a laughing matter,” Edward said quietly.

“It’s too serious, that’s why one has to laugh sometimes,” Damon said quite gently.

“The great American pastime—laugh it off. Pretend it’s not real. But it is real, Damon, God damn it. I know. I say if you begin to compromise you’re lost, when it comes to a matter of principle.”

“We’re not starting a witch hunt by writing a private letter to the ACLU executive—it’s just plain childish to say we are.”

“I didn’t come here to argue with you, Damon,” Edward said wearily, flinging himself down into a chair and rubbing his eyes as if they ached.

“Why did you come?” Julia asked. “Oh, Edward, surely for friendship’s sake—can’t we agree to disagree?”

Edward groaned, then said as if each word were a heavy stone and he were lifting them one by one, “Friendship without solidarity isn’t possible, Julia——”

“You sound like a Party member, Edward——”