"That's altogether not what I mean," Fran said, pouring water from the pitcher into their glasses. "In the theatre you're doing a sympathetic character, you're doing some ono people recognize and can identify with."

"Hell, I don't intend to threw confetti and colobrate or ballyhoo what I am. Who gives a habg anyway if they discover about us?"

"Who?"

"Those you want me to shush for. They watch us pass for a moment and then we go out of their sight forever."

"But not out of mind. What we do reflects on other kids," Fran said. "We've got to be extra careful. We'fo re❤. presenting thousands of kids liko us."

"And on the other side of the foncd?"

"That's different. A murderer is not representative of a heterosexual, is he?"

"I know, I know, a murderer who's gay represents us somehow," Sue said. And halfway mumbling: "But who said anything about murder anyway?"

"According to the tribunal of public opinion? Yes, most always. Look, "Fran set her glass down so that the liquor spilled a little." There are men and thore are women. Right?"

"Do tell," Sue thrust hdr chin up, puckdred her lips and closed her oyes, assuming an attitude of snobbishness.

"Now," Fran leaned forward on the rustic chair in which she sat, "we know what they'ro. . ."

"Not again." Sua held out her arm, dangling the glass at the other end; then she brought the glass to her lips and took deep of the drink. "Let us cut the film there

(Continued on page 21)

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