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Nearer by, they could hear the soft lap of water on the shore and the wooden creak of rowboat oars and a young man singing a soft song, presumably to his girl.
    He was scarcely aware of where his moments with Clarise were leading so suddenly.
    â€œI can’t help the way I am,” Clarise said. “I don’t like most men, and it’s been a long time for me.”
    â€œWill you roll me one of those?”
    â€œSure.”
    â€œA lady oughtn’t smoke.”
    â€œI suppose not.”
    â€œBut then a lady, a real lady, oughtn’t do what I just did.”
    â€œAren’t we a little old for oughtn’ts?”
    She laughed. “Speak for yourself.”
    He rolled the cigarettes and got them going red in the dark night. He gave her a cigarette and then lay down again with her. They’d put their clothes back on in case somebody came along.
    â€œYou seem like a troubled man, Guild.”
    He did not want to talk about the little girl and spoil everything for them. He said, “And you seem like a troubled woman.”
    They said nothing for a long time. They just listened to the soft lapping of water on the shore and the reedy sound of breeze through the long grasses.
    â€œI enjoyed myself, Guild.”
    â€œSo did I.”
    â€œI guess I don’t care if you think I’m a whore or not.”
    â€œI don’t.”
    â€œThat’s what most white people think of us.”
    â€œYou want me to tell you what most white people think of me?”
    She laughed again. “Look at that moon. You ever wonder what’s going on up there, in the parts that look like continents?”
    â€œSure. I wonder about that a lot.”
    â€œWouldn’t it be funny if there were people up there and they were just like us?”
    â€œNo,” Guild said. “I hope they’re not. I hope they’re very, very different.”
    â€œIn what way?”
    He sighed. “I hope they don’t have politicians the way we do, and I hope they don’t let people go hungry, and I hope they don’t kill children.”
    He felt her shudder. “Kill children? That’s a terrible thing to think of.”
    â€œYes,” Guild said. “It’s the worst thing you can think of.”
    â€œThen stop thinking about it.”
    She drew him back to her then, and the wonderful softness and heat and moisture of her mouth pressed to his again.

Chapter Thirteen
    â€œAnother one?”
    â€œPlease.”
    â€œYou’re all alone tonight, Mr. Reynolds.” The bar was small, a narrow walk-in just off Church Street. The smell of whiskey and sawdust and stale ham from the free lunch filtered through the air.
    â€œYes.” He left it at that. He did not want to talk about Helen anymore, or her marriage two months ago to a bank clerk. Everything had been fine with Helen until she learned by accident that he was a thief. She still loved him enough that she had not turned him over to the law, but nothing since then had gone right for Reynolds. Nothing. There had been, for instance, an easy breaking-and-entry job in Milan, Illinois, two weeks ago. He’d been going in through the back window when the entire casement fell down on his head, knocking him out. The incident had very nearly been comic. He’d come to with time enough to get out of the empty house with its walls filled with expensive paintings, its drawers filled with money and silver. Then he had tried breaking into the liquor store over on Harcourt Street. Two steps in he’d noticed a copper walking past the back door, a looming shadow. A copper. He’d cased the job for a week. Coppers were not supposed to come by for twenty minutes. But for some reason one did this night. He’d been forced to flee with nothing. And it all started when Helen told him she was going to marry the boy she’d graduated eighth grade with.
    â€œYou going to see the fight tomorrow, Mr. Reynolds?”