George insisted. "Come, the guest of honour can't escape as easily as that. Out with it!"
"Do I have to?" Martin appealed to Phyllis. She came out of her reverie, aware that even darkness is inadequate as a sedative. The threads of relationship among them all had tightened.
"I know what Mr. Martin's trouble is," said Ruth. "He says everything he thinks, so naturally he has nothing left."
"Why, that's just it," Martin said. "How did you know? What would be the good of thinking things and not saying them?"
"You're not playing fair," George objected. "No one would be crazy enough to say everything. Besides, there wouldn't be time."
Martin was stubbornly silent.
"I agree with Mr. Martin," Phyllis said. "It's not a very cheerful game. If we didn't say our thoughts we must have had some good reason for keeping them silent. Besides, I must speak to Lizzie about breakfast."
"I'll take the car to the stable."
"Can I go with you?" Martin asked.
George had still cherished a forlorn hope that the world was large enough for him and Joyce to have a few moments alone. For several days the stable had been sanctified in his anticipation.
