The roadster was rolling quietly out of the ranch driveway. Mary turned the car south toward the Border. No word about it.
Twilight—Nogales—they were having supper in a little Yaqui restaurant There were paper-thin leaves of corn-bread baked in the sun. He was looking away toward the South.
‘Sometime we must go clear down to the señora’s house in Nacimiento where we first met,’ he said.
‘I don’t know. We can’t ever find what we’re looking for by going back to any place. It’s always ahead.’
‘What we’re looking for,’ he repeated, but not as a question.
‘It would seem so easy to find; it would seem so easy to keep,’ she went on, ‘but I don’t know any one who has kept it. Certainly none of my girl friends who have married. I don’t even know what it is exactly.’
‘It’s something that’s kept on building. Really started when I was in the hospital—no, before that—at the explosion.’
‘No, before that,’ she said.
‘Did it?’