I know a celebrity, Leone thought proudly, but she had been proud of Marianne long before her voice had won recognition.

Unlike Leone, Marianne Foster had always been certain of herself even in high school days when most of the girls didn't know whether they wanted a career or marriage. But if you chose a career the admiration of your friends. was not so frequent as their pity.

"She couldn't get a man, so the poor dear had to get herself a job!"

But Marianne had fooled them. She had won more male admirers than any other girl in the Senior class, and only Leone had known that she wasn't "boy crazy" like the rest of them. But Marianne let people believe anything they wanted to believe. Only to Leone, her best friend, had she suddenly and shockingly revealed her heart.

"I wish we could live together-you and I," she said once when they were alone, with her usual impulsive gaiety. "You like me a lot, don't you, Leone?" Slowly, Leone had nodded her blonde head.

"You like me even better than any boy here at school, don't you?"

But then Leone had been afraid to answer for her heart was ready to agree. Only what would people say about them if they knew Leone didn't really love a boy either? She was horribly afraid of being laughed at or pitied because only women who had "sick minds" would feel anything deeper than a casual friendship for another woman. That was what she had heard one of their school teachers say the one who gave the course in Sex Education. Only men and women had the right to love each other. If you felt any other kind of love there was something wrong with you!

And that was exactly the way Paul, her husband felt. If he knew that she had worshipped Marianne and still wanted to be close to her he would say her mind was sick. That she was unnatural-emotionally retarded or worse, a degenerate!

Leone gave Paul a quick worried glance to see whether her thoughts could be showing visibly as on a TV screen. But her husband's cautious grey eyes were closed and the program his long restless fingers had made into a fan, lay perilously on the edge of his lap.

But when the curtain went up on Act 1 of FAUST, he opened his eyes again for a brief moment. Impatiently, Leone waited for the vision of Marguerite at her spinning wheel. She longed to see Marianne and hear her again as Faust was impatient for the gift of youth.

If Paul should know-if he should ever know this about her? Yet, why should she be made to feel ashamed of the most beautiful emotion she had ever felt? She had married Paul not for love but for social approval. I'm accepted now, she thought, by everyone except the person who matters most to me! She offered me her love, but I chose his because I was afraid of what people might say about two women who wanted each other. I've camouflaged my life to please other people I'm living only what they want me to live, so that no one will ever call me a "queer"-an unnatural woman! Yet how many others were there like herself who were camouflaging their hearts-pretending to be what they were afraid not to be?

Suddenly Leone caught her breath and gripped the arms of the green plush covered chair in which she was sitting. A sudden sharp pain surged through her body reminding her again of their child-her's and Paul's. But at the same moment she saw Marianne with the long golden braids of Marguerite-a wig that covered the short brown hair which had never needed a permanent. Marianne

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