He waited in the room. And waited a little longer. And nothing strange came to him, it was a human, ordinary room.

His hand snapped off the light and he hurried out of the house.

On the street outside he looked up and down before starting for home. There was no police car. Rapidly he crossed over to his side of the street, striding and feeling a pain under his ribs for the first time. Only now could he think of Gertrude and the way she had run off without a word. A pounding rage was deep in him and yet he said almost aloud that it was wiser for her not to scream, but to run home and call the police. It was much wiser, and yet … If only she had screamed and flung herself at them. It would have been a good thing, it would have been such a good thing. If only she could have done that and felt as he did now that he had fought, he would never have to explain to her why he …

‘Lully?’

It was wrong. Instantly he knew that she was not coming out of the right house. He stood looking at her up on the porch, and then he saw Fred coming out and quietly closing the screen door behind him. He could not see their faces in the dark. She was waiting for him to come up the stoop to her but he stood there sadly. It was wrong for her to be coming out of Fred’s house at this time. Or anybody else’s house but his. It was so sadly wrong ….

She came down from the porch and stood before him under the tree on the sidewalk.

‘What were you doing in there?’ he said thinly, knowing what she had been doing in there.

‘Come into Fred’s house,’ she said.

In reply he reached out and delicately touched her elbow.

She grasped his extended arm. Her voice was capable, like the time in the park with the hysterical girl. ‘Come on,’ she urged quietly, ‘I explained it to him. About the Coast and everything.’

He withdrew his arm. The hysteria of the fight seemed to be coming to life in him again and he feared he would weep if he tried to talk.

She would not let go of his arm. ‘Come, Lully. Fred wants to talk to you.’

He stepped back as she began drawing him by the arm toward Fred’s stoop. ‘Didn’t you call the police?’ he asked, dumbly.

‘By the time I got here it was practically over,’ she explained. ‘Come …’

‘But I could’ve been killed …’

‘We were just going out to stop it,’ she promised, now leaning her face closer to his.

‘But Gert, I could’ve been killed while you

‘The fastest way to stop it was Fred, wasn’t it? We were just about to ….’

‘Gert!’ he cried. It broke from his throat. He was keening helplessly through a head full of tears, and with his hands gripping her arms he started walking her backwards along the sidewalk, sobbing, ‘Gert! Gert!’