“I’ll be back early,” Laura said, heading for the door, propelled by the tight violence that was boiling inside her. “Laura!” Marcie jumped up and followed her. “Damn it, Laur, please tell me, I’m worried about you.” Laura turned abruptly at the door. “I’m just going out for a little while,” she said. “I won’t be late.” She tried to leave, but Marcie grabbed her arms. “You’re not fit to go anywhere, Laura. I never saw you so upset,” Marcie said. “Except once. And you—you spent the night with Jack that time. It was my fault. Is this my fault? Am I driving you out again?” “No, no, nothing’s your fault.” Laura covered her face with her hand for a minute and when Marcie’s arms went around her to comfort her, she wept. “Please don’t let me go,” she whispered. “I mean—God!—I mean, let me go. Let me go, Marcie.” She began to resist. But the curiosity in Marcie had taken over. “You’re trembling all over. Come to bed, Laur. Come on, honey, you’re in no shape to go anywhere. Come tell me about it,” she coaxed, trying to guide Laura away from the door. But Laura knew what was in store for her if she obeyed. She uncovered her face to gaze for a moment at Marcie, so close to her, so tantalizing. And that terrible storm brewing inside her made her feel as if she might do any wild thing that her body demanded of her. She was afraid. “Please,” Marcie said softly. “I’ll give you a rubdown, I’m a great masseuse. My father taught me how.” She smiled. “Please, Laur.” “Your father?” “Yes.” “Do you love him very much?” “Yes.” Marcie frowned at her. “And he loves you?” “Of course.” “You’re lucky, Marcie.” “That’s the way it’s supposed to be, Laur. I’m not lucky. I’m just normal. Ordinary, I mean.” Laura stared at her. The emotion in her simmered dangerously near the top. With a sudden swift movement, Laura kissed Marcie’s cheek lightly, leaving the wet of her tears on Marcie’s face, and then whispered, “So lucky ... so lucky ...” Then she turned and ran down the stairs to the elevator. Marcie sat down on a living room chair and put her head in her hands and tried to think. Laura’s strange behaviour made her tickle inside. She felt close to the storm that had barely brushed past her, and yet she remained untouched. There was only the wet on her cheek as a token, and she brushed it off, inexplicably embarrassed. * * * * * Laura made the taxi driver take her past the McAlton. She counted to the fourteenth floor, as nearly as she could figure it, and stared at the golden blocks of windows, and wondered which ones opened into 1402. And if Merrill Landon was in his room.