million reasons why I could put off the trip. I had almost convinced myself and I had slipped off my shortie coat, when the door chimes sounded. I had a moment of panic. Who could it be? I wanted to run and hide but again the chime sounded so, taking a deep breath I went to the door and opened it.

Standing on the threshold was a woman of perhaps 36. She was conservatively dressed in a suit.

I barely stammered out a hello but she smiled and told me she was from the local Methodist Church and understood someone would be moving in today. My heart was pounding and I felt trapped, but she looked at me expectantly and I finally came out of my shock and invited her in.

Inside she turned to me and said, "I am Jean De Witt and I have the house just down the street". invited her to sit down and offered to make some cof- fee but at that moment she noticed my coat and asked if I was going out. I told her just to the market and she at once invited me to with her as she too had to go. I tried to refuse but she gently insisted. I slip- ped on my coat and walked to the bedroom. I could feel her eyes on my back as I walked across the living- room. I now had my gloves and picking up my purse I was ready to leave. I stepped out onto the sidewalk and the wind caught my full skirt and lifted it above my knees. I carefully brushed it back into place as we went toward the car. I opened the car door and, in a feminine fashion, swept my skirt under my legs and sitting down swung my legs into the car. Jean got in on the drivers side and starting the engine, drove slowly down the street. Turning to me she asked if I had been in San Francisco very long. Here I went into my prearranged story. I'd been married to an Air Force Captain, but he had been killed in a plane crash six months ago. I had sold everything in Florida and

had moved to San Francisco to make a new start. This ellicited the usual type sympathy from Jean. She told me she had been married nine years and that her hus- band Norman was an architect. They didn't have any children.

37.