She found a pan and heated the milk and washed out a cup and brought it back to the girl who drank it down quickly, exclaiming a little at its hotness. They sat there without speaking, Annie holding the empty cup. Through the window over the bed she watched the light change. In the large room, the pink lamp looked feverish as the dawn touched the room.

There were women’s clothes strewn about the floor.

“Where are the others who live here?”

“They went away to Big Bear Lake for the weekend. Harriet and Jean. They’ll be back soon. Jean’s parents are coming today from San Francisco. We were going to clean up the place.”

“Please let me get a doctor for you.”

The girl shook her head. “No. I’m going home. I’m going home today. I’m taking the train home to my town and go to my doctor.”

“Where is that?”

“Oregon. I live in Klamath Falls. I came down here—” then she stopped as if struck by the recollection of all that had led her to this place, this hour. She covered her face with her hands and rocked back and forth, but no sound issued forth from behind her locked fingers.

A while later, she appeared to sleep. Annie examined the closed face minutely. The splotches of red had begun to fade; Lucy’s eyelids were faintly blue; her hands lay one on the other, narrow, childish, the cuticles ragged and bitten. Her breath came softly, innocently.

Around eight, the apartment house woke up, a toilet flushed, a distant alarm went off. There were loud steps on the floor above, someone ran down the stairs and shortly thereafter, Annie heard two women speaking, their voices growing louder as they neared the door. A key was inserted into a lock, and suddenly there were two young women looking down at her. Lucy Griggs woke—she looked up at them calmly, then at Annie, waiting.

One of the women set down a small overnight bag, the other went to turn off the pink glass lamp.

“What’s going on?” asked the woman with the suitcase.

“Harriet?” Lucy asked weakly. “Did you have a good time?”

Annie rose and went into the other room. Harriet, who had not answered Lucy’s question, followed her.

“Well?”

Annie looked at her. She was tall, dark-haired, muscular. Her expression held nothing but antagonism and suspicion. A young crone, Annie thought. She told her Lucy’s story quickly. There was no pity on Harriet’s face. Her narrow lips, her unblinking eyes proclaimed that she already knew what the world was.

“I think she should be taken to a doctor. She says she just wants to go home.”

The other girl was making clucking noises near the studio bed. “I knew she’d get into trouble,” Harriet said grimly.

“Poor soul,” said the other softly.