“No. No thanks. Maybe later.” She looked around the apartment, recognition and sense coming back to her face. “Where’s Jack?” she said, and suddenly clutched Terry’s sleeve. “Where’s Jack?” She sounded frightened. “He’ll be back any minute,” Terry said. Laura stared at him then. “Oh, you’re Terry,” she said. “You’re Laura.” He grinned. “I saw you first.” She blinked at him, unable to joke with him. Dead serious, she asked, “Did the oysters help?” “Help?” he said. “Oh. You mean Jack and me.” “He says you love them.” Terry studied her, frowning over his smile, and then looked away in embarrassment. “Not the oysters so much,” he said. “But _you_ helped, in a roundabout way. By getting lost.” “I’m glad,” she said, confused. “He loves you terribly.” She seemed to have no sense that this might startle him or be the wrong thing to say. She hadn’t the physical strength to censor herself. She spoke the necessary truths and no more. But Terry was strongly affected. He walked to the other side of the room and refused to look at her for a while, letting his feelings whirl around inside him. When he did look back, she was stretched out on the sofa, sleeping the sleep of complete exhaustion. * * * * * Laura woke up to find Jack sitting in the armchair sipping gingerly at a steaming cup of coffee. His eyes showed over the rim of the cup, heavy, anxious, and old. He lowered the cup when she wakened, putting it on the coffee table by the sofa and lighting a cigarette. “It’s a nice day,” he said cautiously. She sat up halfway. “What time is it?” “Seven-thirty.” Laura dropped back and shut her eyes. She found a blanket over herself and her shoes were on the floor beside the sofa. “Well,” said Jack, “are you going to tell me where the hell you’ve been? Or am I going to ask?” Laura turned her face suddenly to the back of the sofa and wept. “Oh, Jack,” she moaned. “I killed him. I killed him. Oh, God help me.” And she began to sob. “Killed who?” “My father.” “Your father,” he said with friendly sharpness in his voice, “has a prize concussion. But he’s very much alive.” She turned her head slowly to look at him, her eyes enormous and her heart stopped in her chest. “Alive?” Her voice was a startled whisper. She sat up suddenly and said it out loud. “Alive?” She grabbed Jack’s arms with the strength of shock. “How do you know? How do you know? Tell me quickly.” “I will, give me half a chance.” He pushed her back down and told her of his trip to the McAlton. “I just went up to the fourteenth floor,” he said. “It was easy. There were a lot of people standing around outside his room and the elevator boy told me about it. Incidentally, you made a real friend. He thinks you’re the original Goof Nut.” “But my father, Jack, my father?” “There was a doctor with him. He’s okay, Mother.”