Go out and get a bottle and start the whole miserable business all over again? Well, why not?

Because of Erika.

And why should Erika make any difference? You don't even know if she likes girls—that way. She's being kind to a neighbor in trouble.

The window glass rattled under the violence of the sleet. She shivered. Better to be here in this warm room, waiting for Erika to get back. Even if it was only kindness.

Heavy footsteps sounded in the hall. The Osgood boy again, coming back from whatever girl he was seeing now—no matter how much of a clod he was, a man could always find someone. She lay rigid while he listened at her door. Then he went into the bathroom. A big fellow, hardly out of his teens, but already conceited and grossly male. He had asked her for a date when she first moved in, six or seven months ago—had asked her to come and see his room and then, when she refused, had come home half-drunk one night and tried to break her door down. He had said some unpleasant things when she threatened to call the police—but he had stopped bothering her. She knew, though, that he spied on her.

It would be nice to have somebody, Kate thought wistfully, but not like that. Somebody who would like me because I'm me and not just a machine for making love. Love—that's a fine word for what they all want to do to you.

She could remember the last time she had been with a man. The office manager in the place where she worked last summer had made love to her in the back seat of his car, after buying her a steak dinner and two or three drinks. She remembered that night clearly because it had repercussions. She had been too far gone to take precautions, and she didn't think he had taken any and she stayed home from work, drinking a lot so she wouldn't have to think, for two nightmare weeks. Then, when she knew she was all right, she couldn't go back to work because it would have been too embarrassing. She had called in her resignation from a pay booth.

She tried to remember the man's name, and couldn't. A real mess, she thought shivering. No money to pay a doctor or anything.

Paul. Nobody ever gave a damn about me, except Paul. Don't think about that.

Think about Erika. She said she'd come. She promised. How long do concerts last?

More steps, light ones this time. She sat waiting, holding her breath. The doorknob turned. There was a crack of light. "Who is it?" Kate said, her mouth dry.

"Kate?"

Sweet relief flooded her body.

Erika came in, pulling off her knitted cap. Rain sparkled in her hair and eyelashes. "My God, what a terrible night." Her eyes took stock of Kate, dry and sleepy in clean pajamas. "You didn't go out."

"No."

"All afternoon I was wanting you to be all right."