2.2.

"I must admit," the doctor added, after a time, guffawing, "that it was a damn ticklish problem."

Maud Ellen, now certain that this was NOT culture, straightened her back, coughed, and said in a clear loud voice:

"I see by the paper that it will snow tonight."

The statement was stillborn. A horrible wake-like silence followed.

Billie tried to sip and found nothing there.

"Another Martini, Billie?" George asked perfunctorily.

"Why yes!" Billie beamed. They didn't taste at all bad now.

George's eyebrows went up. Billie had never before finished a first drink. He filled her glass.

"And you. Miss Winters, work here in town?"

The sudden direct question in that deep voice caught Billie completely off guard.

"Me?—I mean-I?-me? Oh. Oh yes. I am here in town. I teach.”

She felt a wave of dark hotness start in her legs and rise to her head. Her eyes filled with tears. What a stupid, stammering, ungraceful answer!

"Billie not only teaches." George said, "but is a first-rate poetess."

"Oh yes indeed!" Maud Ellen gushed in. "We have TWO eminent guests tonight! I don't know HOW many national literary awards and prizes and whatnot Billie has won. And NOW she has a whole BOOK of her VERY own on its way. You just remember that name. I tell everybody, you just better remember it Wilhemina Winters. And so YOUNG to be so eminent!"

Billie took another sip and scooted herself down in her chair. Really, Maud Ellen was impossible.

Catching the doctor's eye. Billie smiled. Instead of returning the smile, the doctor boredly lit a cigarette.

Billie's smile faded. The doctor did NOT like her! Oh. what had she done wrong? Yes, that silly giggle at the beginning. Then that stupid stammering answer. The doctor probably already had a lover-she was so handsome she must have. That beautiful neck, that striking hair. That Rubens-like body-no, it was not that heavy-but it would have that same ample symmetry, that same glowing healthy-animal patina.

Drinks were finished during pitiful, pause-strewn conservation. Maud Ellen valiantly brought up several Safe Subjects. When George didn't even hold up his usual echoing role, Maud Ellen arose and oversweetly suggested they dine. Billie found it difficult to arise but, once arisen, found locomotion a singularly novel sensation, it seeming that although her consciousness still remained fountainheaded in her brain, a goodly portion had filtered downward to her limbs that willy-nilly carried her along in magic waftage. Suddenly discovering her-

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