Suddenly it rang. Laura screamed, a small quick cry of extreme surprise. Her heart had taken a tremendous leap at the piercing bell sound in that still apartment. She let it ring twice more while she caught her breath. _It must be Marcie_, she thought. _Maybe she’s in trouble._ She lifted the receiver. “Hello?” “Hello, Bo-peep.” Laura’s heart gave another bound. She felt the sweat break out. “Beebo?” she said faintly. “How are you, sweetheart? I hear you were looking for me tonight.” “You didn’t waste any time.” Her voice was sharp. “I hate to keep a lady waiting. What’s on your mind?” “I just dropped in for a drink. I was down there in the Village to see Jack and I just wanted to pay you back.” She spoke in fits and starts. “You don’t owe me a thing, Bo-peep. Not a thing.” “A drink.” Laura hated to owe anybody anything. She was meticulous about her debts, however small the sum. “You’re right.” Laura could feel her smile. “I nearly forgot. Okay lover, you owe me one drink.” “Beebo, I can’t talk now, really.” “You’re doing fine. What’s the matter, Marcie breathing down your neck?” “It’s not that.” “You don’t have to say you love me, you know. Just say you’ll meet me tomorrow night. About eight.” “No.” “Don’t be late, doll. I’ll call Marcie and ask her where the hell you are.” “You wouldn’t! You won’t! Damn you, Beebo!” “I would and I will.” She laughed. “Eight on the dot.” “I won’t be there.” “Want to bet?” Laura hung up on her. She was trembling. Angrily she slammed the heavy phone back into place, switched out the bedroom light, and got into bed. The black night settled around her but it brought more restless tossing than repose. The hours slipped by. No Marcie. No sleep. Only an endless bitter reviewing of what her father had done to her; the look on the clerk’s face when he gave her the message; the impotent fury and shame that besieged her. At last she turned the light back on and began to pace the room. The electric clock on Marcie’s dresser said two-thirty. Laura wondered whether to call Burr. Or Jack. She was getting afraid for Marcie. But nobody knew how to reach her. There was nothing to do but wait. It was a few minutes past three when Marcie came in. Laura had left the living room light on for her and she heard her come in laughing and heard a male voice answer her. Not Burr’s voice. Somebody else. A deep mature voice. Laura peeked out through the crack in the kitchen door but couldn’t see him. Marcie was giggling, as if she were tight, and pushing him away. Laura could see her now and then. Marcie said, “I’ll call my roommate. She’ll make you go home.” “I can’t go home tonight. I live in Chicago.” “That’s where she’s from!” “Who?” “My roommate.” “To hell with her. Come here, Baby.” “No!” High as she was, she nevertheless sounded a little scared. She had stopped laughing.