“Poor Laura.” He said it sympathetically. “Come here, honey.” He put his arms around her and held her, stroking her back. When he did it, she didn’t mind. She’d have resented any other man ... except maybe Merrill Landon. But Merrill Landon never showed affection to anyone. “I know how it is, believe me,” Jack said. “You’re starving, and somebody puts a feast in front of you. What happens after that is Instinct. Overwhelming. You eat. Or you die of hunger, right there, with all that food in front of you.” Laura clung to him, letting herself cry softly and gratefully into his shoulder. “Let me give you just one little word of advice, Mother. Don’t starve yourself anymore. Or that hunger is going to kill you.” She looked at him with wet eyes. Her face was strangely different, and Jack could see it. A night of love, a night of luxurious satiation, had changed her. For all her fatigue, her shame at herself, her body was happy and relieved. She couldn’t help that. She felt physically good, for the first time in over a year, and she had Beebo to thank for it. “You’re different,” Jack said, smiling. “You look good. I don’t care how tired you are. It’s becoming—love.” “That wasn’t love.” “What was it, then?” “Just purely physical. Animal. Vulgar.” “Love has a body, Laura. Eyes and lips, legs and sex. We humans can’t help that.” “Love is bigger and better than that. There hasn’t been any of that with Marcie and me, but I love her.” “That’s idealistic crap.” Laura gasped, her eyes widening in sudden anger, but he interrupted her sharp retort before she could make it. “Love is no bigger and better than the people who feel it,” he said. “What has your love for Marcie got you? A fat neurosis, a lot of misery, and a night in bed with somebody you hardly know because you couldn’t stand it any longer. If that’s what makes it bigger and better, the hell with it. Feed it to the crocodiles.” And he turned brusquely away. Laura stared at him, unable to answer him. It struck her harshly that he might be right. “But I love Marcie,” she whispered hoarsely. “Sure. You love her because she looks like Beth, or whatever the hell her name is.” Laura was shocked. “No, no, Jack you don’t understand. That has nothing to do with it. I love her.” He turned to look at her, cynicism written plain on his face. “I love her because—” “Because she’s under the same roof with you, two feet away when you go to bed at night. Because she’s young and pretty. Because you can’t have her.” “Because I can’t have her!” she exclaimed contemptuously. “That’s exactly why I’m so miserable, you idiot! I love her so much—” “We all do. She’s a great girl,” he said, so vaguely and quietly, that it calmed her a little.