‘Come upstairs,’ she said quietly, and went into the house.

He got to his feet and gravely followed her in.

He sat on the small satin-covered armchair a few feet from the bed, watching her as she half sat against the headboard, one leg dangling over the bed’s edge. Only the little night lamp was on near her face. She sat that way a long time, her breast rising and falling with the remorseless rhythm of her thoughts. He watched her narrowed eyes and saw her coldly as through a window.

‘Lully,’ she began quietly, ‘this is what I got to say. Maybe I shoulda said it to you in the beginning, and maybe not. But you didn’t tell me something either, so maybe it’s just tit for tat.’

‘What didn’t I tell you?’

‘About the garbage can. About the Front being alive around here.’

‘It didn’t seem important. I don’t see why it is now.’

‘All right, let me go on. First of all.’ She stopped, glanced over at him as though to see if he were angry, then continued staring ahead with thoughtful, narrowed eyes. ‘First of all, you got to stop fooling around. Either you get in with Fred and join the Front or we get out of here and get out fast.’

He felt he was sinking. ‘What … what?’ he stuttered.

‘I said it and you heard it.’ She would not look at him. ‘There’s a big rally next Tuesday night. You’re going to go.’

‘How do you know there’s a rally Tuesday night?’

‘I shop in the stores here. There’s been handbills flooding the stores. You’ve seen them yourself.’

He admitted it by his silence.

‘Are you going?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Why don’t you know?’

‘Fred told me a long time ago about a meeting of some kind.’

‘Yes?’ she prompted.

‘But he never mentioned it again. I don’t know if I’m welcome, I mean.’

‘Well, you go and you’ll be welcome.’

‘I don’t know.’

‘You’re going to go, Lully. They’re drawrin’ a ring around us. You’ll break out now or you’ll never get out.’

He looked at her a long time. ‘How do you know so much about the Front?’ he asked, and did not want to ask it.

She thought. ‘Never mind,’ she said, tossing her head. ‘You go.’

‘Why were you afraid of that fat man?’

‘I wasn’t afraid of anybody.’

‘You know him, don’t you?’

‘No.’

He got up. ‘You do. Please tell me the truth now, Gert.’ He came to the bed and sat on the edge facing her.

She gazed past him. He could not tell whether she was about to weep or break out in wrath, but there was something running powerfully inside her and she was holding it down.

‘There’s no use, Gert, if you don’t tell me the truth.’ He lifted her hand and stroked it. ‘Please. Please tell me.’

A little sigh escaped her. And she looked into his eyes as though to gauge him. ‘I’ll tell you,’ she said.