openly, although Janice had referred to herself as an unconventional conventionalist-but down underneath there was that same bond.

Her attention caught by movement on the road, Marian looked out as the mailman stopped at her box. He saw her at the window, waved and drove on. It amused her to think that this was the first time in her life that she was a waving acquaintance of the postal department.

Marian walked the length of her driveway. Along with advertisements and redeemable coupons was the letter from Sue. Walking back towards the house she saw it so snug and compact, the lawn adequate without being spacious, birds fluttering and splashing in the bird-bath. She thought, if Sue could only share it with me. Then it would be home. If only Sue lived near enough to drop in. Even the few minutes Sue could spare from Norman would now be enough. Seating herself on the patio, Marian opened Sue's letter. "Don't be angry with me for keeping secrets, but things have happened so fast that I've lost track of time. I'm in the hospital and had my left breast removed last Tuesday. They found cancer and now they have decided that the other one must also be removed -as soon as I'm a little stronger. I wouldn't let Norman call or write to you as I didn't want you to know until it was all over, but, as you now know, I'm only half-way. I won't say I'm not worried. I do wish you could be here, but we have shared too much of life to ever really be separated in spirit. I know your thoughts will be with me. Sometimes it seems as though I can sense your presence-

Checking with the airport, Marian found she could get a through plane the next morning. She wired Janice asking if it would be possible to meet her.

It was her first flight. Her grandchildren, to whom flying was as commonplace as the train had been in her own childhood, had evidenced dismay when they learned she had never flown. "But, Grandmother, everyone flies." She knew they were afraid to acknowledge that she was so provincial. She had never flown because it never seemed necessary to be in such a hurry. Now there was reason. Under other circumstances she might have been able to enjoy the flight, but with Sue engulfing her thoughts. Marian felt no anxiety or joy at being suspended in the atmosphere, no thrill of new experience.

She caught herself whispering, "Please, God, let Sue be all right." She felt guilty as though she had no right to pray. She realized it had been years since anything had been so important to her; since she had wanted anything so desperately. "Not for my sake, but for Sue's," she breathed, then recognized her selfish motive. Louise and Janice were waiting when the plane landed. They appeared to have changed little in the year since she had seen them.

"You're staying with us," Janice announced firmly.

Louise said, "First let's go home for something to eat and I'll stay there while Janice takes you to visit Sue.'

With apparent ease, Janice picked up Marian's bag and they started for the car. In the year since Marian had left, Louise and Janice had bought a small home in a suburban area. Being a few years old, it had the advantages of a lawn that was a solid blanket of rich green with flowerbeds and a few trees that had matured enough to furnish irregularly shaped patches of shade. They proudly showed her the house, pointing out the copper tubing in the plumbing, the electrical heating system and the garbage disposal unit. They seemed as happy as children.

Later, as they drove to the hospital, Marian asked, "How have things worked

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