He holds their attention with that white face which has been cleansed of all impurity. They are unable to answer; they only look at him. He stands there, grave, weighed down by responsibility, and white-faced as if after great ordeals.

‘That’s all,’ he continues. ‘I just wanted to remind you both about that. I’ve heard that you hardly dare go out.’

They do not answer, merely thank him silently.

‘Try to remember it, then,’ he says. ‘You two are not to blame, and are not to suffer needlessly. Shall we go for a walk?’ he adds, quickly and encouragingly as if the idea has just occurred to him.

The idea appeals to them the moment he suggests it.

‘Yes!’ says Freda, snatching at the chance, sensing that this is a good idea.

Peter smiles. ‘Come on then. Let’s go.’

Frank experiences the same extraordinary feeling of relief. Something has lightened the pressure. They go out with Peter.

The side passages outside are in half darkness as always, but there are plenty of people about. Peter walks along with Frank and Freda on each side of him. He stands head and shoulders above them.

They think they know what his purpose is, and they cannot express how grateful they are to him for walking here with them and talking to them confidentially with everyone looking on. That alone restores the ground under their feet. They have an enormous secret respect for Peter, and now here he is walking between them, underwriting their good faith.

He says, ‘Hasn’t something inside you been telling you the same thing?’

‘Sometimes, I suppose,’ answers Frank, still not daring to look at Peter directly. This white face has something about it that makes him feel shy. Frank cannot have any idea of Peter’s struggle to free himself of base motives, or know that this has moulded his expression and given it this pale complexion.

‘Yes, sometimes,’ echoes Freda. Peter makes her feel uncomfortable as well, just like her brother. A ray of light is passing through their darkness, through their abyss.

Peter is carrying a responsibility of which they are ignorant. They see he is going to say something else, and wait for it expectantly.

‘Plenty of people are thinking about you,’ he says. ‘You must remember that. Then you’ll be able to come through it more easily.’

What? they think, as they did before, when the ceaseless calling had sounded in them. This is the exact opposite of everything they have observed and imagined. But when they look at Peter they can see he’s speaking the truth. Now they recognize that the truth is staring them in the face, telling them that the abyss is to be climbed out of, not to be destroyed in.

‘Because everyone knows that you had no part in it,’ insists Peter. They are nervous of him; it seems as if he can read their minds. They are nervous of him yet feel drawn towards him. And in the midst of it all they are aware that they are walking in the corridors with Peter, and that everyone hurrying past is noticing them – here in the district where they are known. Hold up your head, Freda, hold up your head, Frank, his whole conversation and behaviour tells them. They are overawed by him, for they are aware that there is more to this visit than they can appreciate. So they are not condemned to destruction.