he answered. “My father doesn’t have it.”

“I want water,” she said.

He took a can and plunged through the wet darkness, under the great black hedge, down to the trough. As he came back he saw her in the half-lit little cave sitting bunched together. The soaked grass wet his feet — he thought of her. When he gave her a cup of water, her hand touched his and he felt her fingers hot and glossy. She trembled so she spilled the water.

“Do you feel badly?” he asked.

“I can’t keep myself still — but it’s only with being tired and having nothing to eat.”

He scratched his head contemplatively, waited while she ate her