Now, here was a well educated intelligent male giving her the rush. She didn’t understand it. Jack didn’t appeal to her physically any more than any other man; in fact, a little less. He was small, wiry, rather owlish in his horn rims. He looked like an ivy league undergrad. She guessed he was about twenty-five. Laura was twenty. But she supposed that in five or six years she might be as cynical as Jack was. She liked to hear him say things she never dared to say herself. They went to a little bar a few blocks away where Laura had gone once with Marcie for a beer. It was a quiet spot with a steady clientele. They walked in and took a booth in the back. “I usually prefer the bar,” said Jack, “but I always end up telling my troubles to the bartender. So we’ll sit back here.” Laura felt a little strange walking into a bar in a pair of pants, but she was with a man and she hoped that made it all right. “Just a beer,” she said to Jack. A year ago she would have said. “Just a coke.” And said it in a way to make him think she disapproved of liquor. But lately she had picked up a taste for beer. Beth liked it and so did Marcie. That was too much for Laura. There must be something to it. So she had gotten into the habit of having one now and then in the evening when she got home from work. It relaxed her. It made her feel that she could think of Merrill Landon without exploding, or of Marcie without crawling out of her skin. She felt like maybe she could stand it, living this way with Marcie, and everything would turn out all right. The waitress brought their drinks, and Jack poured her beer for her. Then he downed his shot and drank some water. He seemed to be looking for a way to talk to her. “How long have you and Marcie been together?” he said finally. _That’s an odd way to put it_, Laura thought warily. “Since January,” she said. “Oh, yeah. I guess Burr mentioned it. He likes you.” He smiled at her and she relaxed a little. “Why don’t Burr and Marcie get along?” she asked. Jack shrugged and hailed the waitress. Then he looked at Laura. “They don’t want to,” he said. “It would spoil the fun.” “They love each other,” said Laura. “Physically, yes, they do.” Laura didn’t like his definition. “Marcie says they might get married again.” “Yeah. They’re just blind enough to do it, too.” “Marcie’s not blind!” “Sorry. A slip of the tongue.” He grinned and drank the fresh drink the waitress had just delivered. “Well, she’s not,” Laura said, disconcerted by his manner. “She really loves Burr—at least, she thinks she does.” He put his glass down. “Marcie hasn’t learned to love yet,” he said. “You mean she doesn’t love Burr?” She asked the question eagerly. “No,” he said quietly, studying her. “She loves physical excitement. She loves a big virile passionate sonofabitch to make a fuss over her.” “You’re wrong,” she said, disappointed. “She doesn’t fight just for the sake of fighting. It’s just with Burr. She never fights with me.”