But Fleetwood didn't hear her. Suddenly a lot of things were falling into place and it was like deciphering a coded letter only to find out that the message you'd been working so hard to unsnarl was one telling you you'd never been born, that you were just a figment of your own imagination. He remembered the face in the firelight--and the negligee--and all the rest of it. But it wasn't a _real_ memory. It was only the shadow of something that hadn't really happened at all, merely the phantom remembrance of a reverie or a dream. * * * * * Suddenly a dazed, trance-like expression clouded his eyes. He shoved himself away from the stool, turned and started toward the door. "Hey!" Kitty yelled. "Hey, just a minute! You owe me ten cents!" But Fleetwood continued to the door, stepped out to the sidewalk, and glanced purposefully down the row of parked cars.... "Just imagine!" Kitty breathed. "Just feature you being real!" "No," Fleetwood murmured. "No." He looked up at her, beyond her, his eyes filled with a shocking realization. "No, I'm not real. I...." * * * * * _The grey coupe ground to a stop in the drive and Fleetwood got out. As he rounded the shrubs he could see that there were lights on in the house. That was good; Evelyn was home. It was a nice lay-out, swank and beautiful but very refined, like Evelyn herself. He could hear the wash and roll of the ocean from somewhere beyond and below. He patted his pocket, felt the box, and legged it up the steps._ _Maybe Evelyn wouldn't exactly fall in his arms--her good training would blow the whistle on that one--but maybe she'd lean in his direction a little, especially when she saw that the stones were still all there. He reached out and put his finger to the buzzer._ As he waited, a qualm crossed his mind, the ghost of something he couldn't quite remember. There was a dim, fleeting glimpse of another world, a world made up of a counter, the face of a girl, a magazine.... But it wouldn't focus properly; his memory couldn't make the hurdle. The door opened and Evelyn Anders was standing before him. _"Fleetwood," she said. She held her hand out to him and smiled. "Please come in, won't you?"_ _Maybe it was something in those cool blue eyes of hers, or maybe it was just that the harsh light over the door made her look pale; he got the idea that behind her gracious manner there was a sharp edge of nervousness. He got it stronger as she released her hand and made one of those small, miscellaneous gestures toward her hair._ _"Hello, Ev," he said. "I know it's not manners to just drop in like this, but I've got something to show you."_