housewife copy typists. "The kind of girls you like to rub elbows with," personnel had burbled. I resigned myself to solitary lunches and endless evenings. at home reading, unless Miss Brand. . . I shut the thought off and typed expertly for almost an hour before turning again. The high cheekbones and tanned coloring suggested Indian blood, but her hair was golden brown lit with new grey. She wore it off the forehead, brushed back like flattened wings on each side. I admired the slender curved mouth clean of lipstick and the childish perfect nose. "Do we have a coffee break?"

"A whole fifteen minutes." Did she ever do more than reply? May I go with you?" She nodded, rising.

"There's a place next door," she smiled with her odd direct look. Turning. off the machine I felt hot and self-conscious. She's probably married to some engineer with his mother home minding the children. Then inexplicably, "I hope she doesn't have children." Silent I waited for her to open the outside door and saw the narrow gold band. She was questioning me.

"From Boston?"

"No, Hartford. I was in training here and had to resign, so I just stayed." I won't ask, I won't! We entered the luncheonette alive with jukebox melody, and thick with self-pleased male medical students from across the street. My name is Kay -yours?"

Joan." I dove. "How long have you been married?" "Me? I'm not married."

"But the ring

"I exclaimed too emphatically.

"Oh I just wear that." I felt stupid and glad, and hoped she wouldn't notice. We drank the lukewarm coffee and she punched "Mood Indigo" on the booth selector. "Do you live nearby?" I named a street rather notorious for its bohemian element,

"It was all I could afford," I added before she had a chance to comment. "Two and a half rooms, kitchen and bath for fifty-five a month."

"I have a room on the hill and it's pretty bleak. Have to eat out." We grew talkative with money problems. Her salary went mainly for food, while mine was lost in rent. The joy of complaining led to my confession of few friends. She seemed to deliberate. Then, "Haven't you met any interesting people here?"

"Not especially," I countered. "When I was married I "Married? Then you should be wearing a ring!"

"He didn't get around to giving me one. We were divorced on our first anniversary." My head dropped involuntarily. I always felt ashamed when referring to that sorry year so hopeful yet so lacerating. "He wouldn't work or couldn't, I suppose." Kay's eyes were discreetly lowered, but in the rhythm of the record player I thought I could feel the pulse of her sudden caring. We met each other's gaze. Kay's voice was so boyishly low I had to bend forward to hear, and felt her breath warm against my cheek. "I'm sorry you were hurt." We started back.

—

"Nearly three years at the hospital I'm in a rut. I guess I need you to give me a push," Kay finished softly. We were pulled up to the smoky fireplace in my apartment, our toes on the brass andirons. In the dim orange light the black of the picture frames against the white white of the walls always pleased me. Extreme opposites I am attracted, opposites attract she knows it. Five days together five coffee breaks -five coffee breaks five lunches, three dinners, one movie our hands linked warmed each other. (You hold hands so that you won't be hurt by those hands," said the doctor. "I hold hands because it is wonderful not to be alone," I shouted back.) And too, with the smallest pressure one can say 'I love you.' Stop not again remember Mary, Nothing will ever separate us, dear,"

of this marriage in spite of what they say."

remember Paul, "We'll make a go

Kay's past, like our medical histories, could be summarized in a few case-