Now she was standing up. Walking, walking, coming his way—couldn’t she see him? Apparently, she couldn’t. He tried to figure this out. Then it hit him. He’d not explained. He was so excited about Gordon Bray waltzing in with the news about Grady. In his rush to fill in this one last color on the chart, he’d barely explained to her why he needed to see her. Good, now she was within earshot.

“I know this is awkward. I just couldn’t wait.”

“Adam!”

“You were hiding over there,” he said.

“I was. I can’t quite believe it, but I was.”

“Why?”

“I was just trying to figure that out.”

“Are you going to open the gate?”

“Yes,” she said. “Yes, sorry. Of course.”

She put the old key in the old lock, and the bolt turned back. The gate swung slowly open. Adam walked through.

“I’m consumed with this,” he said. “I should have said more on the phone. I’m not good. Good at this.”

“I understand.”

“Do you? Do you know how long this has just driven me absolutely crazy?”

She seemed to shiver. Yet it was hot. The air in the dark had the intensity of unshaded noon. The city was equatorial this summer. He believed every prophecy of melting.

“That day I came in—”

“That day you came in! That was something.”

“I know,” she said. “I thought, am I crazy?”

“Not crazy. Not at all. Because I was thinking the same thing.”

She seemed to be walking up the hill, getting farther away from the street. That was probably a good idea.

“Don—” Adam began.

“Oh, he, we can just—let’s not talk about him.”

“I think we have to,” Adam said.

“You’re right. You are.”

“Of course.”

“But …” Mabel hesitated.

“Let me say something.”

“Go ahead.”

“How aware are you, I mean, of what, you know, goes on for him?”

“He tells me everything,” Mabel said. “Over and over and over.”

“I thought so.”

“I knew you would know that!”

“Look, it’s what he’s about.”

“Adam. That. That is exactly, exactly, exactly how I think of it.”

He could have kissed her. He’d waited a long time for this.

“The Sissy report,” he said. “Let’s go back to the Sissy report.”

“I feel terrible about it.”

“Why should you? It’s not your fault. My God.”

“I should have just called you directly.”

“So he did have it.”

“Of course he had it.”

She was pausing in front of a tombstone. “Let’s sit here,” she said. There was an arbor, an enclosure of greenery. She moved into it. He followed.

“You have no idea,” he began, but before he could finish his thought, her lips were on his, and she was, what was it, she was intimating a way of moving that was, there could be no other way to—“Mabel.” he finally pulled back. “What are you doing?”