“No, no,” said Fanny. She stood there naked. Her arms were lifted above her. “I’m not cold. There are stars and sun in this room ... they are racing through me.” “You’re mad, dear,” said Clara. She was close. She placed her hands on the naked woman’s shoulders. Their eyes met. Clara’s eyes and face went down. Very lightly she touched her lips upon the throat of Fanny. “Dress.... Hurry.” Clara went back to her chair; half-turned away she fingered the fallen Bible. There was a new warm glow between them in the room. Fanny dressed silent, fast. “Why do you want to move about?” She seated herself in her wrapper before Clara on the bed. “I don’t feel like walking. I’ll close the windows. I’ll make the bed in a jiffy. You stay.” “Go and make yourself some coffee. I’ll fix the couch.” “I’ll make coffee for two.” “Alright.” They sat at last, quiet in the clear sunlit room, and smiled at each other. Sleep and the night were gone, with the bed turned couch. “Now it’s my sitting room,” laughed Fanny. “You’ve been used to more than that.” “Please don’t!” Then Fanny was sorry. “No I don’t mean that. I don’t mean to hide myself from you, Clara. Only, it hurts.” “You don’t have to talk ... with me. I’m not that sort. I’m not the sort of girl who measures a friendship by the number of secrets chattered about.” “I know.” “I feel we’re friends, you and I. That’s enough.” “That’s enough. But O, Clara, if I knew a single thing in all the world, I’d tell you. I don’t know anything. Perhaps you know more than I.” “I know some things,” said Clara. “I feel you know some things,” Fanny looked at her friend’s long taut hands. They reached for her bag, opened it, took out a box of cigarettes. She offered it, open, to Fanny. “Go ahead.” They both smoked. “I know that a smoke tastes good,” said Clara. “I know that in the mornings a cup of coffee tastes good. I know I’m young and that the world won’t give me a thing ... not a thing!... unless I fight, unless I cheat.” “What has it to give?” “Just things that taste good....” “Then ...?” “Then let’s die.” “Why do you say Cheat, Clara? Why don’t you say Pay?” “To pay comes high.” “To cheat comes low.” She looked at Clara long. “I don’t believe you, Clara. There’s no cheat in you.” “Then you don’t know me.” “You said that we knew each other.” “Well, look at me!” She stood. “I am lovely. Look.” Her hands caressingly followed her words. “My hair is black and soft. My mouth is warm. This is a good white throat, I know.... And my body is good--O so good and clean, and so swelling-slender like a lily. My body deserves something, that is sure.” She sat down. She blushed. “So does yours,” she went on. “I’ve seen you. So does yours.” Fanny’s hands clasped swaying. “If you could see, O girl, if you could see what has been done upon my body!” She looked away with her hands still swaying ... The Church! She did not know where to look. She hid her eyes in her hands.