Laura’s mouth dropped open. Her face twitched. She couldn’t answer him. She turned and ran, bumping into people, stumbling, until she found a phone booth empty in a row of booths along a far wall and she took refuge there. She buried her face in her hands and wept. “Merrill Landon, go to hell, go to hell,” she said fiercely, under her breath. “I hate you. Oh, God, how I hate you!” And she sobbed until somebody rapped on the door of the booth. She wiped her eyes hastily, knowing they were red and swollen, and turned to glare at the impatient rapper. He glared back. Defiantly she put a dime in the phone and lifted the receiver. She called Jack. A voice answered almost at once. A strange masculine voice. “Hello?” it said. “Jack?” Her voice trembled. “Just a minute.” He called, “Jack, it’s for you.” A few seconds later Jack answered. “Jack, it’s Laura.” “Are you all right?” “I have absolutely nothing to say,” she said. “I’m only calling because—because I’m in a phone booth and some fool wants to use the phone. He’s rapping on the door.” “Mother,” he said slowly, “you have a screw loose. Now listen carefully and do what I tell you. Just go along quietly and don’t tell them anything. I’ll send my analyst over right away.” “My father’s in town.” Her breath caught while she spoke. “Oh! No wonder. Did you tell him to go to hell?” “The desk clerk called his room and said his daughter wanted to see him.” She stopped to swallow the fury in her throat. “And he told _you_ to go to hell?” “He said, ‘he had no daughter.’” Her voice trembled with the immensity of it. Jack, for once, was momentarily speechless. Finally he said, “He is a bastard, Laura. By God, he is. Don’t mess with him. Come on over, I’ll buy you a drink.” “Thanks, Jack.” She broke into tears again. “Don’t cry, Laura. Just think what satisfaction that would give the old s.o.b.” “You’re right!” she said sharply, pulling herself up. “I won’t. I’ll be right over.” * * * * * Jack was waiting for her on the front stoop, sitting on one of the cement railings and looking up at what few stars were available between the roofs. Without a word he got up, slipped an arm around her, and turned her away from his apartment. They walked over to a small bar she hadn’t seen before called Mac’s Alley, without speaking to each other. The bar was in a basement and you walked down a flight of twisting stairs to reach it. There were booths around the walls, tables and a juke box in the middle, and a long bar ran across the back. Laura walked halfway towards the bar with Jack before she realized that there were no other women in the place. She turned to Jack with anxiety. “Do they want me in here?” she asked. He smiled. “They’re not going to give you a rush, Mother. I’ll stake my life on it.” “I didn’t think they liked women in a place like this.”