you were incapable of? using brush and pigments yet not able to paint? or loving some one yet not loving him at all? That was Andy, of course, but I'm getting ahead of my story. Fully dressed at last, I slipped on my coat, pulled the collar up close about my neck and left the house, careful not to wake anyone. How quiet and still the night had been then only the sound of distant motors on the highway beyond the high school.

-

For a long time I walked, wide awake and lonely. Not lonely in the sense that I was alone. Wasn't Mrs. Murphy a wonderful landlady? Wasn't Christmas still fun? And Andy what a wonderful guy Andy was. He'd asked me a hundred times, if he'd asked me once, to marry him. (The idea not only left me cold but uneasy.)

Some where because of the se thoughts I had turned into a small out-of-the-way bar. It was closed, of course, after hours, but the door was ajar and there was a light inside. Not that there was much light. Except for the flowing red, yellow and green lights in the Wurlitzer, and an indirect overhead light at the bar, the club was dark. Chairs were stacked upside down on round, metal tables close to the walls out of the way. A man in white coveralls was bent over a mop near the doorway to the back. "Cantoh ya see?" he said, "sclosed." I nodded.

Just then a blonde appeared at the doorway. Apparently she was a little tight. I don't think it was an obnoxious sight because it seemed in accord with the nature of her face. Mon, it was obvious, were crazy for her. She danced up to me extending simultaneously a hiccup and a smile. I wasn't exactly prepared for her sudden encounter but I didn't mind either. "Hello, pretty," she said in a husky blonde voice, "I want to dance with you."

In view of the fact that she'd just contributed to the juke box, I accepted.

We'd just made a couple of turns to the music when she threw her blonde head back to look into my face and said, "How'n hell you get in here?"

Timidly I glanced at her. There was something evasive in

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