She dressed in the new gown that Jill had put out for the show, and as she caught up her long ermine wrap and shimmering bag, she called to Jill, who was staring out of the tall windows at the snow falling over the lake, "Will I see you before the show? I'm not coming back here."

"I suppose so," Jill replied, not turning, "but if you don't-"

"If you want, you may wait here for your call."

"Thank you. Mrs. Brake's chauffeur is waiting in the lobby." "Good night."

"Good night."

How could she, Pavia reproached herself as she stared at the back of the chauffeur's sleek, well groomed head. She was numb with misery and yet she had done nothing to alleviate the pain. She had practically pushed the girl out of her life, even before she knew what her decision was to be. But Jill was so dependent; she had to learn to think more for herself. And hadn't Jill said she'd found another secretary? Of course, that had been after she'd told her to call Leah. Still, she had been searching for a substitute.

Pavia massaged her throat which suddenly had begun to ache with suppressed emotion. The chauffeur was staring at her in the mirror again. Now that they'd left the downtown traffic, he had divided his attention almost equally between her and the road, yet his eyes held neither admiration nor curiosity for the famous. It was plain hatred. Did he know about her, Pavia wondered. If he did, how did he know? Did Leah send for other women now that she was a widow? She picked the small microphone at her elbow and said, "Will you keep your eyes on the road, please?" His face and neck turned scarlet, but he did not look at her the rest of the drive.

She wondered again about Leah. Was it possible for the personality of such a woman to change? Vividly she remembered their sorority room at the university, the faces of their House Mother and the Dean of Women as the door had burst open upon them, that nightmare of an inquisition in the office downstairs with Leah hysterically screaming accusations at her, her parents' faces as they had come to take her home. Ten years ago, and yet the agony could still bleed freely. Was it possible she still loved Leah? She had thought she wanted never to see her again, yet here she was on her way to answer the first summons the woman had sent her. But how much had Jill to do with her going — and Jill's young man.

Jill was so helplessly young, only twenty and actually nearer sixteen in many essential ways of maturity. She'd known this Jerry all her life; they'd been in love in a way, until she'd come to work for Pavia. Pavia had met the fellow several times, a nice young man, good job, good prospects, he would give Jill a good life with healthy babies and her share of bliss and mediocrity. Could I do more, Pavia thought with a sharp ache in her heart,

Then she remember what Dr. Kaegel had said to her in New York: "We, as individuals, are not important; but as a part of some scheme of Nature we have yet to understand, we're terribly important. As individuals it doesn't matter if we're big or little, wise or foolish, so long as, together, we generate enough energy, or enlightenment, to reveal the darkened stage upon which Nature has set us. We have to find the main switch before we are all lost or dead! That is how we are important to mankind!"

He was right. It must not matter what the Jills did. There were always the Leahs to provide the essentials, Pavia told herself fiercely.

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