Morals, he realized dimly, were imposed—or at least functioned—for the protection of society. With society gone—vanished overnight—did the moral code still hold?
If and when they got back among masses of people, would his feelings toward Nora change? He thought not. He would marry her, he told himself firmly, as quick as he'd marry any other girl. He would not hold what she was against her. I guess I'm just fundamentally unmoral myself, he thought, and began reading the news clips.
There was a knock on the door accompanied by the booming voice of Jim Wilson. "You in there! Ready for breakfast?"
Frank got up and walked toward the door. As he did so, the door to the bathroom closed.
Jim Wilson wore a two-day growth of beard and it didn't seem to bother him at all. As he entered the room he rubbed his hands together in great gusto. "Well, where'll we eat, folks? Let's pick the classiest restaurant in town. Nothing but the best for Minna here."
He winked broadly as Minna, expressionless and silent, followed him in exactly as a shadow would have followed him and sat primly down in a straight-backed chair by the wall.
"We'd better start moving south," Frank said, "and not bother about breakfast."
"Getting scared?" Jim Wilson asked.
"You're damn right I'm scared—now. We're right in the middle of a big no-man's-land."