Momentarily he thought of slipping out the side door near his desk. But if he did, the impatient one would perhaps go to the main office upstairs and complain of the length of time she had to wait. His office had an excellent record for satisfying subscribers. Moreover, it was a strict rule that no employee should leave the office while anyone was waiting to transact business. His integrity would not permit him to break a rule he enforced on others. It had taken fifteen years of discipline and outstanding ability to attain the managership of this public office. And he now felt too secure and happy in his job to jeopardize it at this late date.

Although there was evidence that he was popular with the employees under his jurisdiction and most of those in the main office, there were times when he feared that his secret life was surmised by some. His love of books. music, painting, theatre, and clothes was known to all; and to some was, of course, suspect. He had worked in the happy illusion that everyone in the company thought he was straight until that day when a fellow-employee said: "How about dinner and the theatre some night next week, Fal? Mary and I would rather go out with you than anyone else in the office-no matter what they say."

With an uneasy smile the manager said, "What do they say about me, Bill?" "Who cares? They'd say the same thing about me if I weren't married. You know, Fal? This company's a great place for the conventional man. God help the non-conformist. Hold next Thursday open. All right?"

And while answering "All right," the manager wondered if ever again anything would be all right. So long as life lasted it would never be the same. He thought he knew what had been said, and by the very people who borrowed his books and his money. How terrible it was to have to deny your real self in order to work and live in quiet desperation! Society forced him to play a dual role and he could do nothing but continue living in the now shattered illusion of being straight to the straight.

As though waking from a bad dream he realized that Miss Sheridan was standing at his desk. "Thank you very much, Mr. Falconer," she said. "The telephone company should be proud of you."

"Thank you," he said. "We regret the error. Good afternoon, Miss Sheridan." "Good afternoon. You're very sweet." She waddled slowly from the office. The impatient one dropped into the chair at his desk as though she were exhausted. "Good Lord, it's about time," she said in a husky contralto voice. A sudden flash of intuition told the manager that here was a repressed Lesbian paying the price of repression by hating her kind. "I never had to wait this long before."

"Oh... So you've been in here before?" he smiled in relief, his white teeth sparkling. While she groped in her purse, he wondered why he had not realized that her movements were masculine.

"Yes, lots of times," she answered, "but I never spoke to you before." "You seemed rather in a hurry when you came in," he said soberly. "Shall we get down to business?"

"Oh, dear," she laughed throatily, "are you always so serious?"

"During business hours," he said, wishing to be rid of her, fearing her apparent emotionalism. This fear of her was perhaps due to the ever-present almost unconscious fear that his secret life would be made known to unsuspecting employees and subscribers, and thus he might lose the job he loved.

"And after business hours?" she said with a Mona Lisa smile. "What are your deviations?" She tapped a rose-tipped cigarette on her silver cigarettecase and asked him to have a smoke.

"No, thanks, not during business hours," he said. "What may I do for you? There are people waiting."

"Let them wait! I had to!" She drew deeply on her cigarette, put her head back, and blew two perfect circles. "I was talking about you, Mr. Falconer." "The reason for your being here would be more interesting."

"Oh, don't be modest," she laughed. "You have nothing to lose at your age. Tell me how you spend your nights."

He almost laughed, thinking she was trying to make a date with a kindred spirit. "Oh, I suppose I do the same as everyone else."

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