"You look more worn out than Don Cervante!" he chuckled.
The contrast between this evening and the disillusionment of the day made it hard for Walther to put his gratitude into words.
"I can't thank you enough—" he began.
"Don't try," said Willy. "I may have had my own devious reasons for inviting you." He glanced toward Maria, who was making an effort at polite conversation with the hostess. "I'm afraid our young diva isn't an ardent admirer of the unexpurgated Don Quixote."
There were many questions Walther wanted to ask about Maria, but he tactfully inquired, instead:
"How often does this group meet?"
"Whenever there is something to share—a chapter of literature—a copy of an old painting—a recording. It all depends on what our few Digester friends can manage—They don't have an easy time of it, you know."
"Is it difficult for them to take things out of the vaults?"
"Difficult ... and dangerous," Willy answered grimly.
"But why...?"