“No one can tell; besides, as long as you and I are there with John it will be all right.”
I felt her confidence was not entirely justified but I determined, for the moment, to defer my attack on Paul’s methods until a safer time.
We argued about the wisdom of the coming telecast: was it really necessary to confront the enemy explicitly? and in his own country, so to speak? Iris was not sure, but she felt Cave’s instinct was right even though he had, perhaps, been goaded into action sooner than we’d anticipated by the harsh letters of Christian zealots.
And then by slow degrees, by careful circling, the conversation grew personal.
“I’ve never told anyone else,” said Iris, looking at me speculatively.
“Don’t worry; I haven’t repeated any of it.” And, as always at such times, I felt a warm flood of guilt: any direct statement of personal innocence has always made me feel completely criminal.
“But since I’ve told you, I ... it’s a relief to have someone I can talk to about John. I don’t dare mention his name to my family, to my old friends ... I don’t think they even know yet that I’ve met him.”
“I thought it has all been in the papers.”
“I haven’t been mentioned but, after Friday, everyone will know. Paul says there’s no way for us to duck inquiries. After the directors’ meeting he’ll issue a statement naming directors, stockholders and so on.”
“But even then, why should anyone suspect you were interested in Cave or he in you? It’s possible merely to be a director, isn’t it?”