“It’s been awfully hard,” Iris agreed. Her eyes shifted regularly to Cave, like an anxious parent. “Of course I’ve had more chance than anyone to get out but I haven’t seen nearly as much as I ought. It’s my job, really, to look at all the Centers, to supervise in person all the schools but of course I can’t if Paul insists on turning every trip I take into a kind of pageant.”
“It’s for your own protection.”
“I think we’re much safer than Paul thinks. The country’s almost entirely Cavite.”
“All the more reason to be careful. The die-hards are on their last legs; they’re maniacal, some of them.”
“Well, we must take our chances. John says he won’t stay here another autumn. September is his best month, you know. I think he’s a little superstitious about it: it was September when he first spoke Cavesword.”
“What does Paul say?” I looked down the table at our ringmaster who was telling Clarissa what she had seen in Europe.
Iris frowned. “He’s doing everything he can to keep us here ... I can’t think why. John’s greatest work has been done face to face with people yet Paul acts as if he didn’t dare let him out in public. We have quarreled about this for over a year. Paul and I.”
“He’s quite right. I know. I’d be nervous to go about in public without some sort of protection. You should see the murderous letters I get at the Journal.”
“We’ve nothing to fear,” said Iris flatly. “And we have everything to gain by mixing with people. We could easily grow out of touch, marooned in this tower.”
“Oh, it’s not that bad.” To my surprise, I found myself defending our monastic life. “Everyone comes here. Cave speaks to groups of the faithful every day. I sit like some disheveled hen over a large newspaper and I couldn’t be more instructed, more engaged in life, while you dash around the country almost as much as Paul does.”