It seemed to me that my chances that Judith wouldn’t eventually decide to share this little adventure with Mama were slim and none.I was toast. Mayb... not today, maybe not tomorrow. But soon. Thinking that reminded me of that old movie – Casablanca. I could see Humphrey Bogart, both hands clutching Ingrid Bergman’s arms through that trenchcoat. Bergman’s beautiful eyes full of tears, her agonized expression ... what was it he said to her then? Something about a hill of beans? Their troubles. His bang on the door made her jump. ?Get a move on girl, it doesn?ttake all day to change, I want these letters done or they?ll miss thepost, if your not out in 5 minutes then I?ll have to seriouslyreconsider your position.?Her hands were shaking now, her heart pounding, there was nothing forit, she?d have to wear the things if she wanted to carry on working andgod knows she needed the money. She tried to choose the mostconservative of the items but no matter how she tried they just madeher. "She was right. But,that's nothing to do with how I've been in the classroom. I can do this.I am doing this. And you... you still ..." I shake my head, lowering myvoice. "You went to bed with me." That was a mistake." I don't remember you being all that reluctant." I'm sorry." He says it so softly I almost don't hear it. It's more of amumble than an apology."I'm sorry too," I say, reaching across the desk with my hand to takehis. It's what Ellen would do. She's a tactile person. To my surprise. Road? It wasn't really a road at all, just a narrow dirt track that wound along a few hundred feet beyond the crest of the hill, intermittently visible through openings between the trees. Marching toward them, as though straight out of a book on ancient history, was a troop of soldiers. Moving into the sunlight from under a stand of trees, they were almost overwhelming in their barbaric splendor. Their helmets and breastplates, gaily decorated with painted designs and bright feathers, gleamed.