'Will you be able to come in every night?' she asked.
Noah nodded. 'If I have to bribe every MP in the area,' he said. 'Friday night I may not be able to manage it, but every other night…' He looked around regretfully at the shabby, mean town, dusty in the sun, with the ten saloons lining the streets in neon gaudiness. 'It's too bad you don't have a better place to spend the week…'
'Nonsense,' Hope said. 'I'm crazy about this town. It reminds me of the Riviera.'
'You ever been on the Riviera?'
'No.'
Noah squinted across the railroad tracks where the Negro section sweltered, privies and unpainted board among the rutted roads. 'You're right,' he said. 'It reminds me of the Riviera, too.'
'You ever been to the Riviera?'
'No.'
They grinned. Then they walked in silence. For a moment Hope leaned her head on his shoulder. 'How long?' she asked.
'How long do you think?'
He knew what she was talking about, but he asked, 'How long what?'
'How long is it going to last? The war…'
A small Negro child was sitting in the dust, gravely caressing a rooster. Noah squinted at him. The rooster seemed to doze, half hypnotized by the movement of the gentle black hands.
'Not long,' Noah said. 'Not long at all. That's what everybody says.'
'You wouldn't lie to your wife, would you?'
'Not a chance,' Noah said. 'I know a sergeant at Regimental Headquarters, and he says they don't think we'll ever get a chance to fight at all, our division. He says the Colonel's sore as can be because the Colonel is bucking for BG.'
'What's BG?'
'Brigadier-General.'
'Am I very stupid, not knowing?'
Noah chuckled. 'Yop,' he said. 'I'm crazy about stupid women.'
'I'm so glad,' Hope said. 'I'm delighted.' They turned round without signalling each other, as though they had simultaneous lines to the same reservoir of impulses, and started walking back towards the rooming house. 'I hope the son of a bitch never makes it,' Hope said dreamily, after a while.
'Makes what?' Noah asked, puzzled.
'BG.'
They walked in silence for a minute.
'I have a great idea,' Hope said.
'What?'
'Let's go back to our room and lock the door.' She grinned at him and they walked a little faster towards their rooming house.
There was a knock on the door and the landlady's voice clanged through the peeling wood. 'Mrs Ackerman, Mrs Ackerman, I would like to see you for a moment, please.'
Hope frowned at the door, then shrugged her shoulders. 'I'll be right there,' she called.
She turned to Noah. 'You stay right where you are,' she said.
'I'll be back in a minute.'
She kissed his ear, then unlocked the door and went out. Noah lay back on the bed, staring through mild, half-closed eyes up at the stained ceiling. He dozed, with the Sunday afternoon coming to a warm, drowsy close outside the window, with a locomotive whistle sounding somewhere far off and lonely soldiers' voices singing, 'You make time and you make love dandy, You make swell molasses candy, But, honey, are you makin' any money? That's all I want to know,' on the street below. Drowsily, he knew he'd heard that song before. Then he remembered Roger and that Roger was dead. But before he could think much about it, he fell asleep.
He was awakened by the slow closing of the door. He opened his eyes a slit, smiling gently as he saw Hope standing above him.
'Noah,' she said, 'you have to get up.'
'Later,' he said. 'Much later. Come on down here.'
'No,' she said, and her voice was flat. 'You've got to get up now.'
He sat up. 'What's the matter?'
'The landlady,' Hope said. 'The landlady says we have to get out right away.'
Noah shook his head to clear it because he knew he was not getting this straight. 'Now,' he said, 'let's hear it again.'
'The landlady says we have to get out.'
'Darling,' Noah said patiently, 'you must have gotten it a little mixed up.'
'It's not mixed up.' Hope's face was strained and tense. 'It's absolutely straight. We have to get out.'
'Why? Didn't you take this room for the week?'
'Yes,' said Hope, 'I took it for a week. But the landlady says I got it under false pretences. She said she didn't realize we were Jews.'
Noah stood up and slowly went over to the bureau. He looked at his smiling picture under the jonquils. The jonquils were getting dry and crackly around the edges.
'She said,' Hope went on, 'that she suspected from the name, but that I didn't look Jewish. Then when she saw you she began to wonder. Then she asked me and I said, of course we were Jewish.'
'Poor Hope,' Noah said softly. 'I apologize.'
'None of that,' Hope said. 'I never want to hear anything like that from you again. Don't you ever apologize to me for anything.'
'All right,' Noah said. He touched the flowers vaguely, with a drifting small movement of his fingers. The jonquils felt tender and dead. 'I suppose we ought to pack,' he said.
'Yes,' said Hope. She got out her bag and put it on the bed and opened it. 'It's nothing personal,' Hope said. 'It's a rule of the house, the landlady said.'
'I'm glad to know it's nothing personal,' Noah said.
'It's not so bad.' Hope began to put the pink soft clothes into her bag, in the crisp folded way she had of packing anything. 'We'll just go down the street and find another place.' Noah touched the hairbrush on the dresser. It had a worn silver back, with a heavy old-fashioned design of Victorian leaves on it. It shone dully in the dusty, shaded light of the room.
'No,' he said, 'we won't find another place.'
'But we can't stay here…'
'We won't stay here and we won't find another place,' Noah said, keeping his voice even and emotionless.
'I don't know what you mean.' Hope stopped her packing and looked at him.
'I mean that we'll walk down to the terminal and we'll find out when a bus is leaving for New York and you'll get on it.'
There was silence in the room. Hope just stood there, looking solemn and reflective, staring at the rosy underclothes tucked away in the bag on the bed. 'You know,' she whispered, 'this is the only week I can get in God knows how long. And we don't know what will happen to you. You may be shipped to Africa, to Guadalcanal, any place, next week, and…'
'I think there's a bus leaving at five o'clock,' Noah said.
'Darling…' Hope did not move from her sober, thoughtful position in front of the bed. 'I'm sure we could find another place in this town…'
'I'm sure we could,' Noah said. 'But we're not going to. I don't want you in this town. I want to be left alone here, that's all. I can't love you in this town. I want you to get out of it and stay out of it! The sooner the better! I could burn this town or drop bombs on it, but I refuse to love you in it!'
Hope came over to him swiftly and held him. 'Dearest,' she shook him fiercely, 'what's happened to you? What have they been doing to you?'
