All his friends worked in various manual trades. They watched him go by, whenever he passed, with admiration, and sometimes with envy. This would have pleased him had he not been acutely and bitterly aware of the long and difficult path ahead of him.

“You are the only white-collar worker!”

“Outside our alley that’s worth nothing,” he said quietly.

“Outside doesn’t matter. Our alley’s just a place for carts!”

He kissed her for the third time and said, “Never speak of carts without respect…”

“Well said! You are so noble…”

Her father had been arrested in the same brawl as his own brother. He went to jail, where he died of his injuries. However, these happenings were considered among the glories which made the good name of the alley. But Sayyida obviously had only one thing on her mind and it was no use ignoring it. There she was, asking the question: “And what next?”

He was aware of her yearning for a word that would set her heart at ease and make her happy. He knew too that on no account would his happiness be less than hers; it might even be greater. He loved that girl as she loved him and could not do without her. But he was afraid. He had to think a thousand times. He needed to refer to the bitter Work Program. He still had to ponder a long while on the life that lay before him, welcoming him and challenging him at the same time.

“What do you mean, Sayyida?”

“Nothing!” she answered lightly, but with an undertone of insistence.

“We shouldn’t forget we are young…”

“Me?” She said this with mild protest, hinting sweetly at the womanhood that cried aloud within her. “Grow your mustache. That’s what you need.”

He took her jest seriously and thought the idea could be of real help to him in his struggle. For who could imagine a senior official without a mustache?

“I will carry on with my education, Sayyida,” he said quietly.

“Do you need more education still?”

“A university degree.”

“What for?”

“A useful asset for promotion.”

“Will it take you long?”

“Four years, at least.”

With concealed anguish, he noticed an expression of coldness in her eyes, perhaps also of shame, with something of anger in it too.

“And what do you need promotion for?”

He laughed and kissed her hair but did not dare go beyond that. The scent of her hair reminded him of childhood games and a punch in the back when they were caught playing bride and groom. The darkness of night loomed over the hilltop and a sound of singing came from a distant gramophone.

“It seems promotion is more important than I imagined…”

He took her hand in his and murmured, “I will love you forever…”