"I just started mailing yesterday."
"But so far?"
"None." He picked Karen's coat off the chair he draped it on. "Thanks for dropping in."
Getting into her coat Karen said, "Take it easy, Glenn, will you?"
"I have to do what I think is right."
Karen was smiling as he held the door open for her.
It was a foggy night, two nights after Wheelan had picketed the fairgrounds and been run off by Chief Neff. Wheelan had decided to walk down toward the beach after dinner. His aunt wasn't speaking to him. Nor was she cooking for him. He got a hamburger at a drive-in across the road from the long narrow San Miguel beach; then wandered through the fog toward the last sidewalk before the sand.
He heard a car slow behind him, then saw the nose of a Ford convertible slide out of the thickening mist. Eventually he saw Karen, her dark hair in a thin scarf, smiling at him from behind the wheel. "You mad?" she called.
Wheelan finished the hamburger and wiped his hands on his pocket handkerchief. "More or less."