I had a reason I was moved so forcibly, one I didn’t reveal to Molly. Such a possession would be a token of enduring faith, a symbol of continuance to bind us together in the bad times I feared were coming. The money it would cost would be a penance for my sins. I was again behaving like a damned fool, as if I wished what was going on between Constance and me to be found out. Did I? Want that? The possibility frightened me. But the way I was behaving made it inevitable that I’d be discovered. More and more people were seeing us close together, sitting side against side in a movie theatre or slumped in the dark corner of a bar. I’d taken the final foolish step, rented a small room on a monthly basis in a Forty-eighth Street hotel, the Alpine, and we’d moved in some things. I now had two bedrooms. Sooner or later someone with a loose mouth was bound to come on us together in the lobby or leaving by the front door. Was I ready to face the consequences? Not when I thought about it.