Jack stretched out on the bed next to Terry. There was an hour or so when he could sleep before he had to get to the office. He turned his head a little and saw Terry watching him. “You still here?” he said. “I thought I told you to go.” “I think I’ll stay,” Terry said, smiling. “I’m a glutton for punishment.” He was intrigued by this new side of Jack. Jack turned over and looked at him, surprised. “You’re a brat,” he said finally. “A beautiful, unbearable, stuck-up, silly, irresistible brat.” Terry laughed. “That’s why you love me, Superman,” he said, poking Jack in the ribs. “Who says I love you?” Jack said wearily and turned away from him. “Jack, be nice to me.” “I’m worried sick and he wants me to be nice to him. Ha!” Jack told the walls. “Damn it, I think you _do_ love this girl.” “She bought your oysters, lover. You can spare her a little good will yourself.” Terry dropped back on his pillow in silent surprise. It was the first hint he had had of the state of Jack’s finances. * * * * * Jack went to work. There was nothing to be accomplished sitting around the apartment quarreling with Terry. It wouldn’t bring Laura back any sooner, and there was not much he could do to find her now. Except call in the police and he gagged on that idea. He would wait at least until the next morning. But at the end of the day things were getting black. Laura was still gone; Marcie was panicky and agitating for a call to the police; Beebo was glowering, furious at herself for caring what happened to Laura and yet caring anyway in spite of herself; and a thunderstorm was brewing. They waited alone, Jack and Marcie and Beebo, in the gathering dark: each with his own peculiar fears and hopes. Jack drank. Marcie paced around the roof, praying God that Laura hadn’t killed herself. Beebo came over after a while and talked to Jack. They talked, they drank, the phone rang. Terry wandered around the apartment in a pet because nobody was paying any attention to him. In another part of town Burr cursed silently because Marcie would pay no attention to _him_. And still elsewhere Merrill Landon lay with an aching head and heart and peppered the detective agency he had hired with evil-tempered calls while they labored to locate his daughter. Finally Terry exploded at Jack, “If you don’t talk to me I’m going to get out of here!” He gave the nearest chair a petulant kick. “I don’t have to hang around here till I drop dead from boredom.” “Go,” said Jack. “You’re driving me nuts anyway with that damn pacing the floor.” “I wish I _was_ driving you nuts,” Terry retorted. “I just seem to be in your way.” “You are, lover. Shut up and eat something. You’ll feel better.” “I just ate!” “Then just shut up.”