the status of her relationship with Louise couldn't be ignored. He had about him a quality of virile persistence combined with a strong lithe frame and a roughly handsome face. Few people would disagree as to Louise's attractiveness. The tall slim figure with the short, smooth, blonde hair and the even facial features was present in Helen's thoughts. She had to admit that Louise and Clyde made a striking-looking couple.

A glance at the large clock hanging above the bar told her she had waited twenty minutes. She signaled Cleo for another Manhattan. Regardless of where she tried to center her attention she found her eyes returning to the door. Surely Louise would appear any moment, she thought.

The middle-aged couple left. Immediately the external atmosphere quieted as Mike, the bartender, lowered the volume of the juke box. The overhead lights were turned off. Helen found herself preferring the illumination for now the gloom of the room seemed to add to that within her. She would have kept the lights on while she was alone. With Louise, she liked the obscurity of the shadows.

Ordinarily, two Manhattans were her limit, but impulsively she signaled Cleo for a third. Cleo appeared without the drink.

"Why don't you go ahead and have dinner, Miss Kemp?" Maybe Miss Mason won't be able to make it. Maybe something important turned up."

Helen smiled to herself for Cleo was a good guesser. Something had turned up all right. Eat? She couldn't eat without Louise. Not now. Not tonight. "One more Manhattan. Cleo." she said.

"Do you think you should, Miss Kemp?"

"It's sweet of you to care," Helen grinned, then hated herself for sounding silly. As she finished her drink a glance at the clock indicated the small hand was stationed at six. She studied the clock for a moment and was further saddened by the realization that it was fifteen minutes after six. Every beginning had its ending. It was only a matter of recognition. This was it-the end. Louise would tell her or write (the easier way out) that this thing was over between them; that she loved Clyde and they were getting married. Helen closed her eyes. "Please God." she breathed, "help me to go on." In the morning there would be another dayand tomorrowand tomorrow.

She paid her bill and convinced Cleo that she wasn't hungry.

"I'm sorry that Miss Mason didn't make it," Cleo said.

"If she does come " Helen started to say.

"Is there a message?"

"No, don't bother."

"Just as you say. Good-night," Cleo said.

Helen got to her feet. She knew if she kept her eyes on the door that she'd make it. A form appeared in front of her but she tried not to take her eyes from the door. She wished the person would step aside for she didn't want to have to bump into anyone.

"Helen, I'm sorry. Come on back and sit down."

It was Louise! Helen allowed herself to be propelled to the booth. Their booth. Now it can be told, she thought. The sad, sad story.

"I never thought it would take this long," Louise explained. "Clyde was horrid.

I told him definitely that he isn't going to come between our friendship and to never ask to see me on a Thursday evening. It's our night and that's final."

Helen knew she was grinning foolishly.

"How many drinks have you had?" Louise asked.

"A dozen." she smiled and wondered what four Manhattans would do to her.

one