“Well, don’t put on a long face,” Marcie said with a sudden laugh. “He’s divorced, not dead. It was final last November.” Her face became serious again and she gave Laura a plate of vegetables and hamburger. “He’s very nice to know,” Marcie mused. “But hell to live with. Laura, do you cook?” “I can’t boil water.” “Well, I can do that much.” Marcie lapsed into silence then, her burst of charming vitality spent. She ate quietly, as if unaware of Laura’s presence, gazing at the table cloth and forking her food up mechanically. She had withdrawn suddenly and soundlessly into a private corner where fatigue and secret thoughts absorbed her. Laura felt more awkward than ever. She was afraid to interrupt Marcie’s reverie, but like all shy people she was convinced that if you can just keep the other person talking everything will be all right. It was an urge she couldn’t resist. After a few false starts she said, “Have you been in New York long, Marcie?” Marcie looked at her, mildly surprised to find her still there. “Yes. Since we were married.” She spoke absently, turning to her plate. “When was that?” “Three years ago.” She came suddenly back to the present. “Laura, did you ever love a man and hate him at the same time?” Laura was nonplussed. This was more than she counted on. “Well—I don’t know exactly.” She wasn’t sure if she had ever loved Merrill Landon. She knew well enough how she hated him. “I shouldn’t throw my problems in your face like that, before you get your dinner down,” Marcie smiled. She reached out and gave Laura’s arm a pat that made Laura jump a little. “It’s just that that damn character proposed to me again today. I don’t know what to do with him. I thought maybe you could give me some advice. Have you ever been married?” “Me? No,” said Laura emphatically, as if it were a slightly lewd suggestion. “Who is ‘that character’?” “Burr. My ex-husband.” “He wants to marry you again?” It seemed unnatural to Laura. If the marriage were legally over, physically over, emotionally over, why beat the carcass? “Yes. The fool.” Marcie smiled ruefully. “He’s a very persuasive fool, though.” Marcie was one of those people with the rare gift of intimacy. You knew her a few minutes, an hour, a couple of days, and you discovered to your surprise that you felt close to her. It wasn’t the personal revelations she couldn’t help making, as much as it was her look, her questions that asked for Laura’s help. Laura felt curiously like an expert on marital affairs, and it was so ridiculous that she smiled. “What’s funny?” Marcie asked. “You make me feel like Miss Lonelyhearts or something,” Laura said. Marcie laughed. “You don’t have to give me advice, Laura, just because I ask for it. I guess you can’t anyway if you’re single. But just for the hell of it, what would you do if a decent honorable sort of ex-husband chased you like a demon and swore he’d kill you if you went out with anybody else?” “I’d send him to a clinic.”