"No." he said.

"Then where?"

"To my car," he said, and looked at me.

"All right." I agreed.

In the meantime I had found my breviary and he his revolver. His car was parked a block away. It was late; nobody was on the street.

"I have a friend, Father," he hesitated, "and I love him very much." His voice was quiet and warm. I understood; he trusted me. The fight had brought us closer. "We lived together," he continued. "We were like one being . . . he is wonderful." We were so happy until Saturday before Palm Sunday he was in your church for confession. The next day he told me that he wanted to receive Holy Communion at Easter. I understood that, and everything was all right until this Monday. When I came home from work I found the room nearly empty on the bed was this letter only." He handed me a piece of white paper. "It is too dark. How am I supposed to read it?"

"Wait, Father, I will make a light." He took matches from his pocket and helped me to read: The pastor told me in confession I have to leave you. Otherwise I shall be in Hell for the whole of eternity. It is hard, believe me, but I am leaving, Fred.

"How old are you?" I asked.

"23."

"How old is Fred?"

"21."

"How long have you been friends and lived together?"

"Two years."

"Are you married?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"I don't like girls. I have never fallen in love with a girl. But I fell in love with Fred."

"Look, Joe. I want to understand you. I must think a moment."

"There is nothing to think about," he said. "It is clear the pastor is guilty." "I don't intend to defend the pastor," I told him, "but in my opinion he did his duty only. If, for example, a girl would come to confession and would confess that she was living with a man without benefit of a legal marriage, as a Catholic priest, I would be obligated to tell her to leave the man. "But I am not a Catholic; I am a Jew."

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"All right, but your friend is a Catholic. So the pastor told him what any other priest would also. I am sure that if you would go to your rabbi and tell him about your life with Fred, he would demand that you leave him."

"Father, we don't go to the rabbi to ask about everything. I am old enough to use my own judgment. Can't you understand that love and marriage are two different things. There can exist legal or illegal marriage, but not love. Marriage is a contract that can be made without any love."

"I see your point," I said, "but please listen to me. A wise solution is not found in the hasty condemnation of opinions opposite from your own. I would like to help you but I don't know how I can. Let us talk again some other time. Maybe your friend in the meantime will come back."

"Come back?" he asked me in surprise. "Is that possible?" I detected a change

in his voice.

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