We began at once to talk as old friends, as Lori and he actually are, having known each other for over eight years, and Lori makes claim that her "career' began as an early contributor to the magazine.

He was as warm, charming and witty as I had remembered him to be; although what I admired most about him was the clear and equitable eye he could cast upon any topic of conversation, and I was more than eager to hear his appraisal of the split that had occurred in the ranks of ONE.

However, my turn was not yet. Lori and he had much to catch up on, and both current and auld acquaintance were hashed, after which legal matters came to the fore. Pressing forward in my chair, I listened with some amaze to the recounting of the Long Beach trials and to a contemporary case of two married Lesbians that ONE had been called upon to advise.

Manuel passed by us briefly, bidding goodbye, and went on down the stairs. He had an interesting face and I should like to have inquired about him, but Lori and the other one were uninterruptable. Now the conversation had turned to ONE's recent European tour. There was a really hilarious tale of an incident that had taken place in England, in which one of the group had innocently gotten into trouble with the gendarmes, but had made so much more trouble trying to be helpful to them, that instead of deporting our compatriot, the good bobbies had all but begged him to go his way in peace.

At which point, two other staff members emerged from the adjacent offices, and went to the closet to get their jackets. It appeared that we were all going out to lunch. Lori frantically wigwagged me to remind me why we had come, (she thinks I'm her agent), and I made bold to inquire about her ms.

Our staffer turned from the closet to face me, saying sweetly-(what we had been putting off knowing): "But my dear, it's not here." Stopping our shocked protests with an outstretched hand, he added, "I know-I know. Someone came all the way from Italy to pick up his ms., but every last one of them has been carted away."

We stood stunned in the midst of the luncheon exodus. Bill touched my arm. "You see-you, too, are involved."

If Lori was, I was, of course. It was a strange and far-reaching feeling. The ms. that Lori had left in trust with ONE, had been symbolically torn in two...

My mind traveled a freeway of its own to an unknown destination where Lori's words (every one of which are as jewels to me) might be in some rough, unlocked box, instead of in this safe repository she had choosen.

I did not dare ask if our names, which are also words, were in some unlocked box as well.

Lori took my hand silently, cautioning me with her eyes to shut my big mouth (which in spite of me had been about to fly open).

We all went together out into the bright sunlight. At lunch, we spoke of other things, and I even made merry in my fashion. Yet, later, half-ashamed to have momentarily exhibited that ever-threatening cowardice, I thought of the other part of what had once been whole, and of that "mystic bond of brotherhood" to which we, too, belong. Then I asked Lori if she was going to submit another manuscript to ONE.

She smiled at the general stupidity of agents. "Of course," she said.

Charlotte

6