By the time the afternoon was over, I was more than ever glad that I had someone with me a girl that is, who knew the ins and outs, for she thought of all the obvious and unobvious things that I never would have. If I had been alone, I probably wouldn't have paid much attention to costume jewelry (primarily I think because I never had had an interest in jewelry of any type before), accessories such as belts, scarves, hand- bags and especially the intricacies of makeup. By the time she was finished, I was very thankful I had bought my airline ticket already or I'm sure she would have spent that money as well. But really, it was worth it all as I fully came to realize in the months to come. So well had she set me up that I didn't have to buy anything for nearly a year (not that I didn't, of course, but that's anticipating the story.)

And so, when the last merchant had escorted us to the door, chuckling greedily, I was very nearly an economic disaster area (once more), but I was the owner of such a wardrobe as any girl would give both her capped eyeteeth for. I attempted to express my feelings to Beth, but I chose my words a little wrong, I'm afraid. When I told her, “You ought to go into business for yourself-helping boys learn how to become girls!", she made a very odd contortion of her features and said "Yeah, sure." She was silent the rest of the way to her apartment.

With the aid of a cab and a delivery service, we had managed to bring everything with us and when I surveyed the heap of boxes and bags, I was more than a little awed. I was, as well, in very high spirits. I must say that I enjoyed my first day spent as a girl very much and I had a genuine feeling of accomplishment. Beth on the other hand seemed depressed; apparently I had touched some sore spot with her when I had made the abortive effort to thank her.

She presented quite an enigma, I realized as I tried to think of some way to make amends. Just what was her attitude regarding all this. And why did she seem to know or rather, what was her relationship to the strange Cynthia? Or had that in fact been her first "conversion." As fascinating as all these extrapolations were, they were not a solution at all.

At length I said, “Beth, uh — look, I feel I owe you more than my thanks for all you've done today. Would you consider it out of place if I offered to buy you dinner? If you're not planning something else, that is . . .'

She looked at me very intently for a moment, then said in low tones, "Yes maybe that's what I need. Let me take a bath why don't you decide what you're going to wear and I'll help you with it.”