Calvin Schmitter was implacable, his washed-out pale little Swede face forever contemplating some judgment day when all the truths he had gathered would be confirmed by the appearance of the Lord. The pamphlets he wrote were usually given to Max to put into some semblance of order, and no matter how aware the committee in charge was of Calvin’s deadly turgid prose, they continued to assign such work to him. There was always a fight afterward as Calvin, rigid with insult, tried to put back each irrelevancy Max had excised. He’d accused Shore of being a “literary deviate,” of succumbing to fancy standards meant for bourgeois consumption. Why didn’t Max respect the plain language needed by oppressed minds? It was clear to Calvin that Max must purge himself of incorrect attitudes.

“Could I speak with you?”

Eva said, “Sit down, Jake, but not in the blue chair. My God, don’t you have an umbrella? Do you want wine or coffee?” Eva flexed her fingers under the light.

“Nothing,” said Jake, looking warily at her. He could hardly dissemble his desire for her to leave the room. Eva smiled faintly.

Max, feeling dusty, watched the two of them with some appreciation, part of it gratitude to be free of the onerous job he’d only half completed. Eva had a certain shrewdness about the weight of her own presence; she always seemed to know when people would like her to leave. She teased, staying on until it was her pleasure to leave. She knew Jake was shy.

“I don’t have nothing,” she said. “How about a cup of tea? Or Ovaltine? Or cocoa?”

Jake writhed, water scattering in drops to the floor.

“Oh, for God’s sake, take off your jacket,” Eva said. “I’ll make some coffee.”

She moved slowly out of the room, looking at Max to make sure he was up on her game.

Falling over his own feet, Jake ripped off his lank jacket and handed it helplessly to Max. Then he sank into the couch. His bones were prominent, and his hair stuck to his skull. Max saw what he’d look like when he was an old man. He’d known boys like Jake when he was growing up. They’d been his friends. His family’s wealth, its position in the community, had not troubled him in those days, not until just before he’d gone off to college.