'I know what you're thinking," she forced herself to smile, "but electric blankets are wonderful."

There would always be the well meaning people who liked to joke about old maids and people who slept alone.

"Good-night, Mr. Daugherty." Helen noticed the hollowness in her voice as it reverberated in the empty office.

"Good-night, Miss Kemp," he called after her.

At the corner she glanced at her watch. Ten minutes had passed. She couldn't help glancing to the right of the mailbox where Louise always waited. Two teenaged boys stood there sharing a magazine. A pang of anguish went through her as she realized that she now had to share Louise.

Ironically, The Gala Grill was never crowded and always quiet. Its calm atmosphere usually had a tranquilizing effect on Helen, but as soon as she pushed open the door she was jolted by a too loud "rock and roll" number on the juke box. The room appeared garishly lighted in contrast to its usual shadowy atmosphere. Helen was further disturbed to find a fat middle-aged couple in the booth she and Louise always occupied. With an attitude of forced indifference, she slid into another booth.

Upon glancing towards the bar, she saw Cleo watching her questionably and signaling "one or two?" Helen raised a finger turned to her bag and found her cigarettes.

"I tried to save your booth for you, Miss Kemp," Cleo apologized as she placed the Manhattan on the table," but I thought you weren't coming."

"That's all right. I know I'm late."

"Do you want to order dinner now?"

"Later, Cleo." She jestured to indicate the room. "Couldn't you do something about this?"

"I know what you mean. It's due to them." Cleo tossed her head to indicate the middle-aged couple. "They come in and smack, right away order dinner. He starts feeding the juke box, then complains he can't hear it, so Mike has to turn it up. Then she complains that it's too dark and she can't see what she's eatin', so on have to come the lights. I think they're about through. This must be their anniversary or something," she added in a confidential tone. She started to leave, then returned. "Is Miss Mason sick or something?"

"She was delayed. She'll be joining me later."

"I'll watch for her," Cleo said and moved away.

Helen had been seeing Louise every Thursday evening for so long that it was like an unsigned agreement, an unspoken pact. Not that they didn't usually meet other times, but Thursday evening was the one night that if invitations arose each said, "Sorry, can't make it."

When Louise began seeing Clyde, Helen tried not to show that she was jealous, even though she herself had been seeing Howard every Saturday night for years. But with Howard and her it was different. She knew. Howard was satisfied with the arrangement and would have been aghast at the thought of taking on responsibility in the form of a wife. Helen was satisfied with the arrangement because being Howard's old steady made her socially acceptable although possibly their relationship didn't settle the suppositions as to why they had never married.

Helen had only to see Clyde with Louise to know that here was a man who wouldn't be content to take the sidecar ride through romance. Clyde had the hungry look of a man in love. The fact that Clyde presented a concrete threat to

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