Hadn’t she looked at a newspaper once? Hadn’t she known about Dunkirk? That the Germans were in Paris? That Italy had declared war on France? He frowned, shook his head, clucked. How had she managed to find such a decadent corner in which to dream away this critical summer? The job, she explained. He pushed that aside. Somewhere in her—he had known from the beginning—was an indolent dilettante. Why was she laughing? Oh, she was happy to see him! Ridiculous girl! The world was going to smash and she was happy to see him! She told him of the young man who had come to the drive-in one evening and wept copiously into his chocolate sundae at the fate of the churches of Europe; all that priceless stained glass that was going to be shattered by bombs, never to be replaced. “Sounds like one of your sort,” he commented.

“What are your uncles like?” she asked, trying to imagine herself as the young bride on her way to meet new relatives.

“They’re fat.”

He hadn’t been to the ranch for years and would have to feel his way. They followed a blacktop road for miles, then turned left onto a dirt lane with a high turf ridge which scraped the bottom of the car. A light rain was falling. They both leaned forward squinting through the windshield.

Walter cut the motor. The car’s headlights revealed a thick patch of bramble and tall weed. She heard the soft continuous tap of rain.

He led the way to a small shed and pushed open the door without knocking.

“Georgie! Herbie! Get up!” he shouted. They stepped inside, hearing the damp sad groans of sleeping fat men. Walter lit a match. Two large mounds lay on a bed with a metal headboard; a soiled pink blanket left bare large areas of mattress ticking. One thick foot hung over the side of the bed. Walter began a noisy search. After a moment, he appeared next to her with a kerosene lamp which he lit, squatting near the open door where he could make use of the lights of the car.

Besides the bed, the room was furnished with a table upon which sat an empty bottle labeled Muscatel, and a kerosene stove. The only plumbing visible was a water tap which shot straight out of the wall and dripped into a bucket on the floor. Piles of clothes were scattered here and there.

“The sheep get the best rooms,” Walter said. The fat men slept on. Walter suddenly jumped directly onto the bed and, hopping up and down, made loud baaing noises.