“Have you got fifty bucks a week to spend on your salvation?” “I haven’t got fifty bucks a week to spend on my _groceries_,” she said. “Well, I guess he doesn’t need you as much as I thought. But I’d be glad to stake you to your first session. After that it becomes habitual. You crave it. You’ll find the money somehow.” Laura was laughing. “Give it to Marcie, not me,” she said. “She’s the one who loves to talk.” “You do some pretty good talking yourself.” “I do?” “You got lyrical in defense of oddballs Friday night.” “I did not! Let’s not go into that again anyway,” she said. “Look, Jack, I’d like to talk to you, but—” “I know, you’re at work. So am I. Don’t you ever get tired of work?” “I’m on probation here. If I don’t do well they’ll fire me in June.” “So your poor virtuous hardworking little life revolves around that office.” “Now you’re being an ass again.” “I’m telling you, Laura, you’d make a good soap opera. So would the rest of us. We’re all a bunch of nuts in a million nutsy little soap operas. Will Burr marry Marcie? Will Jack take the pledge? Will Laura stick it out till June? Tune in tomorrow. We won’t have the answer for you, but we’ll sell you soap like all hell. Do you know why people buy soap?” “To wash themselves.” “No. They like to play with themselves in the bathtub.” Laura had to laugh at him. “You fool,” she said. “Jack, I can’t talk to you, honestly.” “Okay. I’ll call back.” “No, no, call tonight.” “But I want to see you tonight.” She was unaware that she might have impressed him on their date, and he took her by surprise. “You do?” “Well, don’t sound so damn shocked. You’re a nice girl even if you are ten feet tall. I’ll pick you up at seven-thirty.” “No, I can’t, Jack.” “Okay, eight.” “I’m busy.” “The hell you are.” “I am.” “You lie! I have an instinct about these things. Eight sharp.” All at once Laura became aware of another voice calling her. “Laura?” It was Dr. Hollingsworth. He was standing over her desk and she looked up suddenly like a scared little kid. “Yes, sir?” she said. She hung up without even saying goodby to Jack. * * * * * Jack Mann was not a pushy type. On the contrary, he was rather shy, although it rarely showed. He went to parties and hid behind a stream of wisecracks. He did the same thing on dates. He did it with anyone and everyone. It was a sort of defense mechanism, a way of hiding his real self, and he had done it for so many years that by now it was second nature. Even people who knew him fairly well, like Burr and Marcie, never saw beneath this facade of witticism. They thought that _was_ Jack: all funny asides and not much serious straight talk. It was hard to take him seriously. He didn’t want that. He wanted to be laughed at, to be amusing, and he usually contrived to be. He was content to let people take him for a wag.