“Suit yourself. I’ll walk you to the subway.” “No, don’t bother. I know you want to get home. Thanks a lot, Jack. I don’t know why you’re so good to me.” “My interest is purely academic. Your innocence amazes me.” “You make me feel like a hayseed,” she said. He laughed. “Okay, Hayseed. I’ll call you in the morning on what’s-her-name.” “Sarah.” “Sarah. See you.” And he turned and walked off. * * * * * Laura walked toward the subway but she knew she wasn’t going home. She knew she would walk right past it and she did. She walked for four blocks, seething with a renewed fury at Merrill Landon. Her hot hand was cramped around the slip of paper with Beebo’s number on it, in the pocket of her jacket.... _I’ll pay her back. I’ll just give her the money I owe her, have one drink, and go home._ She looked at her watch—a little past nine. For a moment she stood at the head of the stairs looking down at the double doors that opened into The Cellar, feeling her heart bound nervously. She never seemed able to walk into this place confidently. There was always a moment of fear and reluctance. But the need to be with her own kind quickly overpowered it. She walked in, heading for the bar, ignoring the curious stares that greeted her. She stood at the end of the bar and when the bartender came up he recognized her. “Hi,” he said. “What’ll it be?” “Whisky and water, please,” she said. She looked around the place, up and down the bar, around the tables, but she didn’t see Beebo. She drank half her drink, and then walked back to the ladies’ room, looking into the rear of The Cellar, but Beebo wasn’t there. In extreme irritation she walked back to the bar, wondering whether to crush her pride and ask the bartender where Beebo was, or let it go. She finished her drink and decided if she had come this far she might as well go the whole way. “Where’s Beebo tonight?” she asked the bartender the next time he got near. “I owe her some money,” she explained compulsively. He smiled. “Oh, she’s been and gone already,” he said. “She’s probably over at The Colophon. She likes it over there. No boys.” He grinned. “Thanks,” said Laura, slipping off her seat at the bar and heading for the door. She was embarrassed enough without asking him where The Colophon was. She didn’t want to advertise her “innocence.” Near the door a slim pretty girl, who had kept an eye on her at the bar, approached her. The girl wore her hair in a short soft curly cut. She was blonde and feminine. Laura let herself be approached simply by returning the girl’s gaze as she came near her. She stopped when the girl spoke. “Excuse me,” the girl said. “We noticed you were all alone. My friends and me. Like to have a drink with us?” She nodded toward a table where three other girls were sitting, watching them. One of them, sitting alone on one side of the table, stared coldly at Laura.