‘Yes, I’ve heard of them.’

‘He was all right to me, for a man. I came around to myself. And I began to go out again. Well …’ She thought. He watched her inward stare as the passing headlights smoothed their glow across her relaxed face, which held a majesty for him now. ‘I fell in love with this actor. I brought my mother out for the wedding.’

‘Where is your home?’

‘Rochester. Seven sisters. I’m the oldest. My mother came and he went.’

‘He didn’t marry you?’

‘Not even maybe. He just lit out.’

‘Is that when you were ill?’

‘Yeh. That’s when I was ill. I went back to Rochester and sat around. That’s when I realized what was wrong.’

‘How do you mean?’

She turned to him and thought for a moment. ‘You ever listen to rather Coughlin?’

‘Oh, sure. Many times.’

‘It felt like he was talking to me. I could tell listening to him that he was on the level. That’s all I want with people, is for them to be on the level, and he was. He just put me in a sweat listening to his voice. And the things he said were so true, you know? He’s the only priest I ever heard who had the nerve to come out with things. He really knows what God is about … Or don’t you think so.’

‘I do. I think he was very forceful making his points. Are you Catholic?’

‘No, but I go to church most Sundays. But you don’t have to be Catholic to believe in him.’

‘I know. I just asked.’

‘He made me believe in God again. He really did. I’m not kidding, he gave me hope. I mean that there were still some honest people left.’

A quietness, an exalted calm fell over them. He was sure she was referring to him then, and to the kind and straightforward way he had treated her the past week. In the moments of their silence he thought to himself that she was spiritual. A woman who had been roughly handled. He wanted to cradle her head in his arms and protect her, then. And yet he could not help wondering how she had gotten that Brooklyn way of talking when she came from Rochester where the speech was so different.

‘Did you go to school in Rochester?’ he asked, his tone inconsequential.

She looked at him. ‘Don’t you believe I come from Rochester?’

‘Certainly I do. I just wondered …’

‘You believe everything I say?’ she asked in deadly earnest.

If he said no, she would get up and walk away. He knew she would. So he said he believed her. And without warning she took his face in her hands and brought her lips up to his, held him so he could not move and looked into his eyes as though she would cry. And then she kissed him hard and let him go. He sat there blind. In a moment she took out a handkerchief and held it to her nose with her head tipped forward and he saw she was crying.