Norma smiled: she had been listening. She gave him the cigarettes, hesitated, then touched his lapel for the second time this evening. She held her hand there. Her eyes became heavy again. Without looking at him she turned to the stairs and started up. He fixed his attention somewhere else. The touching had signified the good night she had not had voice to say. He was closer to her than ever, but he felt almost none of the excitement that Betty Kaminsky had aroused. Colin MacIver had said that there was no such thing as an easy lay. Leland could not see what MacIver could have meant. MacIver had been tense and Leland was tired, lonely, and in need of loving; maybe the difference accounted for his failure to understand. Roberts said something about the appearance on television. For some reason he wanted to make conversation and Leland was reluctant to cut him off. Leland seemed to get along so well with reporters, Roberts said; he asked if they were friends off the job.

“I don’t know any of them,” Leland said. “Never saw that interviewer before tonight.”

“You see, that’s interesting,” Roberts said. “The announcer spoke of you as if he had coffee with you. And you don’t know him, either?”

“No, I never met him.”

“Do you know what I mean, Joe? They seem to have a good time when they’re with you. Maybe that’s why they like you.”

“I don’t know anything about it, Wendell. They don’t all like me. I made an enemy of one on Monday morning.”

“Oh? What was that about?”

“Something else. Manitou stuff.”

“All right. I’m glad you didn’t take Phyllis too seriously. I’m not sure that she remembers what she said to you.”

“I said forget it.”

“Yes. Good night, Joe.”

“Good night.”

Leland looked at the handset, as if it could tell him what had been on Roberts’ mind. The ending had come abruptly after so much meandering and apparently pointless searching for conversation. Leland had to wonder if he had not been exposed to a side of Roberts that he had seen and misinterpreted in others. It was supposed to be an interest in people. It was just curiosity, and when it was satisfied, these presumably gregarious types turned rude. Leland was not a patient—as Roberts had reminded him—and therefore might not require first-class consideration. It was only a thought. The other possibility was that Roberts had had a private interest in learning whether Leland had connections with the press. Leland supposed that he had those connections: the newspapers had participated in the favor the Port Smith Police Department had done him when he had left Port Smith. He felt his mind wandering. He went up the stairs.