“Oh, Laura! God! Make sense!” Marcie exclaimed. But when she evoked no response she dropped it with a sigh. “Let’s go out on the roof,” she said, “and get some fresh air. It’s a beautiful night.” “Looks like rain.” “How would you know? You’re staring at the ceiling.” “It did, earlier.” “That’s what’s beautiful about it. Maybe there’ll be thunder. I love to stand naked in the rain.” She glanced down slowly at Laura. But Laura turned back on her stomach without a word. A terrible apathy nailed her to the bed. Not even the nearness of Marcie could arouse her. They sat quietly for a few minutes, Laura lost in herself, and Marcie searching for a way to cheer her up. The phone rang. “I’ll get it,” Marcie said, and got up. She walked across the room and picked up the receiver when Laura suddenly remembered Beebo. She sat up in a rush. “No,” Marcie was saying, “I can’t. I’m sorry. I don’t want to argue, not any more. I’ve had enough, that’s all. I won’t talk to you, Burr. No, it’s not her fault, it’s nobody’s fault.” She looked at Laura stretched out again on her bed. “That has nothing to do with it. No. Goodnight, Burr.” She hung up and stood for a moment motionless, watching Laura, who lay with her face turned away, apparently relaxed. Burr was getting jealous, impatient. He was ready to accuse anybody of anything to get Marcie’s favor back. Their phone conversations were little more than arguments which Marcie terminated by hanging up on him. But he wouldn’t be put off for long. Marcie sat down on her own bed with a book, the one she meant to ask Laura about. She stared at the pages without reading, and wondered about her moody roommate. Laura was watching her wristwatch. It was two minutes fast. She lay still, but she was alert, poised to jump. At two minutes past eight, by her watch, the phone rang again. “It’s for me,” she told Marcie, who had no intention of going for it. Laura came across the room and sat on Marcie’s bed. “Hello?” she said into the receiver. “Hi, lover. Where are you?” “At home,” Laura said sarcastically. “Where else?” “You want me to come over?” “I’ll be down in a few minutes. I was delayed.” “Okay, but make it fast. I’ll call again at eight-thirty. And every ten minutes after that.” Laura hung up without a further word and turned to look at Marcie. “I met him at work,” she said, her face flushing. “He’s been pestering me. I don’t want to see him.” She didn’t know what she was going to do. “Oh,” said Marcie. _Then why all the fuss?_ She looked curiously at Laura’s pink face. Laura turned away and began to walk up and down the room, feeling as if there were a bomb sealed in her breast, ticking, about to go off. She knew her nails were cutting her underarms, yet she hardly felt them. It was an expression of terrible tension in her. Suddenly she whipped the closet door open and pulled out her coat. Marcie, watching her, said quickly, “Where’re you going?”