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They read the long afternoon through, while the cold November rain fell from the sky upon the quiet house.
" `The favourite subject, Myself."'
He squinted at the wall.
"I understand that one," said Mildred.
They had sat in the green soft light without saying a word for a moment, and then Montag talked about the weather, and then the old man responded with a pale voice. It was a strange quiet meeting.
Montag stopped at the door, with his back turned.
"Millie? Does the White Clown love you?"
Now as the vacuum-underground rushed him through the dead cellars of town, jolting him, he remembered the terrible logic of that sieve, and he looked down and saw that he was carrying the Bible open.
The front door opened slowly. Faber peered out, looking very old in the light and very fragile and very much afraid. The old man looked as if he had not been out of the house in years.
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