"It is my own voice," Mrs. Wladek said. "The voice is my own, but I did not tell it to speak. Inside my own head, I can hear my own voice as if someone else put it there." "Ah," the gypsy woman said. "And who is the witch who has put this curse upon you?" Mrs. Wladek sighed. "At the office of the social workers, there is one, a young woman. She has done this to me." Marya Proderenska nodded. Her eyes closed. Mrs. Wladek stared at the still figure without moving for a minute. Time stretched endlessly. The room was very quiet; Mrs. Wladek heard the continuing voice in her mind and felt fear. Another minute ticked by. At last the gypsy woman opened her eyes. "It is a strong curse," she said in a distant voice. "But I have erased it for you. I have taken the hex from you. Is it not so?" "Taken the hex--" Mrs. Wladek shook her head. "Then why do I still hear the voice?" "You still hear it?" The gypsy woman muttered under her breath. "Come back tomorrow. We work again." "Tomorrow is a long time." The gypsy woman closed her eyes for a second. "All right," she said, and snapped them open. "Four o'clock this afternoon." "I will be here." "It is a strong curse." "You will help me," Mrs. Wladek said. "I will help you," Marya Proderenska said. But, after the old woman had left, Marya Proderenska sat alone and her face was troubled. The strength of the curse--she had felt it herself--was enormous. She did not know of any magician who had such power. She listed over the members of her own clan in her mind, and became satisfied that none she knew was responsible. And yet, the strength of the curse argued real power; was it possible that a power existed within the city, and she did not know of it? Marya felt a cold wind on her back, the wind of fear. Such a power might do--anything. And yet it was being used to coerce one useless old woman into taking a job! Marya Proderenska lay flat on the floor, her arms outstretched. Thus one might gather the vital energies. Four o'clock was not many hours distant, and by four o'clock she would need all of the energy she could summon. She did not allow herself to become doubtful about the outcome. And yet she was afraid. * * * * * Gloria smiled understandingly at the woman who sat across the desk. "I understand, Mrs. Francis," she said. "It's not that Tom's a bad boy, you know," the woman said. "But he's--easily led. That's the only thing." "Of course," Gloria said. She looked at the middle-aged woman, wearing a gray suit that did not fit her overweight frame, and a silly little white hat. "I'm sure everything's going to be all right," she said. Mrs. Francis gave a little gasp. "Oh, I hope so," she said. "Tom doesn't mean to cause any trouble. He just doesn't understand--"