Should have brought a book, she thought. Twenty people or more before her, and they wouldn't hurry—they were on salary, not commission. She thought of going out and getting a paperback. But then she would lose her turn. Besides, nobody else was reading. She tipped her head back and read all the notices on the walls, the warning about filling in your claims TRUTHFULLY, the one about vacancies in the post office department (all calling for lots of education).

The case worker at the front desk was a little pigeon of a woman with rigid waves, ruffles, too much jewelry and bright pink rouge. Maybe sixty. Please, Kate prayed silently, not that one. Let me talk to a man. Men are kinder.

"Next, please."

The girls in the front row got to their feet, looking at each other before they stepped up to the white line. One was about seventeen, a schoolgirl type in sweater, wool skirt, pearl beads. She looked scared. The other was flat-hipped in dark slacks and a man's shirt. Her hair was shingled and her clear olive profile wore a tense defiant expression. She might have been Greek or Armenian, maybe second-generation Turkish, or one of those mostly-white youngsters even sociologists regard as Negroes.

They handed in the blue cards that meant that they had been placed on a trial basis and let go. The pigeon woman looked sharply at the notations, then at the girls. Her lips pursed. She asked a question in a low voice. The thin dark girl shrugged and held out her hand, palm up—how should I know? Her friend was silent, but pink crept up into her face and down over her neck.

"I can't find anything for you right away." The placement officer sounded tired. Then she looked at the girl in slacks, considering. "I can place your friend as an order picker, part time."

"We want to work together."

"Take it or leave it. Somebody else will be glad of the job if you're not interested."

"No, we want to stay together."

The dark girl's voice was sullen. Kate knew she was frightened, more frightened than her baby-faced friend would ever be, because she had been making this scene for a long time and besides she was the strong one. She turned away from the railing. "Come on, kid, well try someplace else."

The pigeon watched them go. Then she turned to a sad-faced man at the next desk, who had sat gloomily watching the whole thing. "Honestly, I can't understand it. I'm as broad-minded as the next one, but that's going too far. Don't they care what people think?"

"Takes all kinds."

"Well, I think it's disgusting."

Kate put her hand in her coat pocket where Erika's dollar and the unopened pack of cigarettes lay side by side. She pushed back her folding chair. It scraped loudly on the floor. A scattering of people turned to look, bored and curious.

Let me out of here.

It was better out in the fresh air. She stood still until her breath came evenly again. She looked around for the two girls, but they were gone.