‘You’re supposed to laugh,’ College said, affronted; and it suddenly occurred to him that the boy had in fact not spoken a single word, not one, not even when they’d been introduced to each other. ‘Do you ever laugh?’ College asked, irritable now. ‘Look, Johnny, I don’t want to make trouble or anything—’ He shifted uneasily at the bar. ‘Johnny, old boy, I’d really like to hear you say something. Speak to me of the rain, of winter, of summer on the oceans. Tell me about your dreams. Tell me about anything at all.’

What was Jonathan to do? He was painfully aware of the change in atmosphere. But control it? make a shift in it? He was half-drowning, half-scorching in it. Even so, even in his desperation, he did say something; but he spoke gently as the teeth dictated: a crash of honky-tonk drowned him out and College saw only that the lips moved and no sound came.

‘Oh, shit,’ College said then. ‘You did seem too good to be true. I speak. All other people on the railroad speak, albeit none of them so beautifully as I. Everybody who can speak, speaks at least sometimes. You do not speak. Ergo, you cannot speak.’ His voice now had an unvarnished edge; Jonathan opened his mouth to protest, but the teeth clattered down and while he struggled to right them College rushed on, aware only that the charge had not been denied. ‘This is not what Frank said to me. Which is to say that Frank tidied up the truth a little. You said nothing, but then how could you? Look, old friend, I know this is a weakness in me, but I cannot help it. I mean no offense. I’m sorry, but I cannot work with you.’

Jonathan’s rage was as full-blown as it was abrupt. There was a moment of quiet in the room, as though the din itself were shocked by the intensity of this one young customer at the bar. He set down his glass and said in a measured tone, ‘I got no money for the drink.’ Then he turned to leave: the silence collapsed back into clamor.

‘Well, will the saints be blessed,’ College shouted after him. ‘Don’t go away. Come back! Don’t get mad. Hey!’

Jonathan stopped but did not turn.

‘Look, you’re the smartest kid I’ve run across yet,’ College went on. ‘You’re a natural: a joy – Come back, goddamnit. It’s just that I thought – Talking’s all I care about. Why the hell didn’t you—?’ Broken sentences from College sounded so odd that Jonathan turned. There was warmth and a childlike uncertainty: he was touched despite his anger and despite the fact that he’d rarely been touched in his life. ‘I couldn’t work with a mute. I just – I’m sorry. I didn’t want to offend you, but – Have another drink. Why don’t we sit down somewhere? No? Why don’t you speak? Is there a reason? I mean, if you can speak, why don’t you?’