keep clear of people like me,
you might stay alive for another fifty years.'
'No. I've thought it all out. What you do, I'm going to do. And don't
be too downhearted. I'm rather good at staying alive.'
'We may be together for another six months -- a year -- there's no
knowing. At the end we're certain to be apart. Do you realize how utterly
alone we shall be? When once they get hold of us there will be nothing,
literally nothing, that either of us can do for the other. If I confess,
they'll shoot you, and if I refuse to confess, they'll shoot you just the
same. Nothing that I can do or say, or stop myself from saying, will put
off your death for as much as five minutes. Neither of us will even know
whether the other is alive or dead. We shall be utterly without power of
any kind. The one thing that matters is that we shouldn't betray one
another, although even that can't make the slightest difference.'
'If you mean confessing,' she said, 'we shall do that, right enough.
Everybody always confesses. You can't help it. They torture you.'
'I don't mean confessing. Confession is not betrayal. What you say or
do doesn't matter: only feelings matter. If they could make me stop loving
you -- that would be the real betrayal.'
She