He stopped me again with a shake of the head. His eyes were very deep and very sad and I didn’t quiteknow what to say. I suddenly realized how far out of touch with real people I’d gotten in my years of commuting.There’s something cold and impersonal about a nine-to-five job and a ride home with total strangers. Even totalstrangers that live in the same town. I just looked at Da Campo.

“It’s simple, really,” he said, rubbing his hands together, looking down at them as though they had justgrown from the ends of his arms.

“I got mixed up with some pretty strange people a few years ago, and well, I went to jail for a while. When Icame out I couldn’t get a job and we had to move. By then Ellie had drawn into a shell and…well, it just hasn’t beeneasy.”

I didn’t know why he was telling me all this and I found myself embarrassed. I looked around for somethingto break the tension, and then pulled out a pack of cigarettes. I held them out to him and he looked up from his handsfor a second, shaking his head. He went back to staring at them as I lit a cigarette. I was hoping he wouldn’t go on,but he did.

“Reason I’m telling you this is that you must have thought me pretty odd this afternoon. The only thing Ihave is my garden, and Ellie, and we don’t like living as alone as we do, but it’s better this way. That’s the way wehave to do it. At least for a while.”

For a second I got the impression he had skimmed the top of my mind and picked off my wonderment at histelling me the story. Then I shook off the feeling and said, “That’s understandable. If I ever did wonder about youand Mrs. Da Campo, well, it’s something I won’t do any more. And feel free to drop over any time you get the urge.”He looked thankful, as though I’d offered him the Northern Hemisphere, and stood up.,

“Thanks a lot, John. I was hoping you’d understand.”