But when they reached Broadway he hailed a cab and she let him put her in it, as she knew she would. “I can’t. I won’t. I’m tired and hungry,” she said. But she got in. “I’ll fall asleep over my typewriter tomorrow,” she moaned. When they reached the Cellar she felt a lift of excitement in spite of herself. They arrived after the kitchen had closed, but Jack was a regular customer, and they were willing to fix him up. They followed a waitress to a table. Laura walked with a strange light queasiness in her stomach and sat down with Jack feeling terribly self-conscious and looked-at, as if every pair of eyes in the room was inspecting her. Jack laughed, waving at somebody. “All my friends’ll think I’ve gone straight,” he said. He gave the waitress an order and she scuttled off. He leaned back in his chair to look at Laura then. “Sorry you’re here?” he asked. “No. But I wish it was Friday night.” “Relax. We’ll leave when you say the word.” She began to feel adventurous and crazy. Jack went up to get them both a drink. She eyed it with suspicion, but then she picked it up and drank half of it down, and it hit her like a bomb, a big soft lovely explosion of warmth in the pit of her stomach. She blinked at Jack, who only smiled, knowing the feeling. “How would you like to be in here some night,” he said slowly, “with Marcie beside you? And sit alone together at that little table over there? And tell her you love her?” Laura took another gulp of the drink and almost finished it. “And hear her say the same thing?” Laura put the glass down with trembling hands. “Oh, Jack, you bastard,” she said, her insides aflame. “Cut it out.” “You want it so badly,” he said, “that it’s tearing your guts out. And it’s never going to happen. So open your eyes. Look around. There are some beautiful women here tonight. There’s one as pretty as Marcie.” He squinted over her shoulder. Laura turned around indignantly to look, and saw a charming face framed in short brown curls smiling at a table partner. She looked up at the sudden sight of Laura’s own face, pale and compelling. “Nobody’s as pretty as Marcie,” Laura told him. “Somebody was,” Jack said, with his peculiar intuition taking him straight to the point. “What do you mean?” Laura said defensively, and finished her drink. “Whenever you know damn well what I mean,” he said with a smile, “you ask ‘what do I mean.’ As if I were nuts. Well, I’m not. Give me your glass.” He took it and got up. “Never thought you’d beat me to the bottom, Mother.” He peered into it with one eye and then left to get it refilled. Laura leaned back in her seat and shut her eyes. After all, what did it matter if she were here? She felt wonderful. She had put in a terrific day’s work, she had a right to a little fling. Her body glowed through its whole length. Marcie loomed in her mind like a lovely apparition, not quite real. _I’ll have her someday_, Laura thought. _No matter what he says._