"Too dirty?"

"Maybe Ill let you read one sometime."

"Whiskey and apples go together. Fix me a drink, darling. Then you can read me astory yourself."

Very fg for a file; worse, when Idid seem to have her interest, there was actually a telltale frost over her eyes, as ifshe were wondering whether to buy a pair of shoes shed seen in some window.

"Is that the end?" she asked, waking up. She floundered for something more tosay. "Of course I like dykes themselves. They dont scare me a bit. But stories aboutdykes bore the bejesus out of me. I just cant put myself in their shoes. Well really,darling," she said, because I was clearly puzzled, "if its not about a couple of oldbull-dykes, what the hell is it about?"

But I was in no mood to compound the mistake of having read the story with thefurther embarrassment of explaining it. The same vanity that had led to suchexposure, now forced me to mark her down as an insensitive, mindless show-off.

"Incidentally," she said, "do you happen to know any nice lesbians? Im lookingfor a roommatarry such cachet later on to becalled Mrs. Something Another. Thats not true!" She was staring at an alarm clockon the table. "It cant be four-thirty!"

The window was turning blue. A sunrise breeze bandied the curtains.

"What is today?"

"Thursday."

"Thursday." She stood up. "My God," she said, and sat down again with a moan.

"Its too gruesome."

I was tired enough not to be curious. I lay down on the bed and closed my eyes.

Still it was irresistible: "Whats gruesome about Thursday?"

"Nothing. Except that I can never remember when its coming. Yo九_九_藏_书_网u see, onThursdays I have to catch the eight forty-five. Theyre so particular about visitinghours, so if youre there by ten that gives you an hour before the poor men eatlunch. Think of it, lunch at eleven. You can go at two, and Id so much rather, but helikes me to come in the morning, he says it sets him up for the rest of the day. Ivegot to stay awake," she said, pinching her cheeks until the roses came, "there isnttime to sleep, Id look consumptive, Id sag like a tenement, and that wouldnt befair: a girl cant go to Sing Sing with a green face."

"I suppose not." The anger I felt at her over my story was ebbing; she absorbedme again.

"All the visitors do make an effort to look their best, and its very tender, itssweet as hell, the way the women wear their prettiest everything, I mean the oldones and the really poor ones too, they make the dearest effort to look nice andsmell nice too, and I love them for it. I love the kids too, especially the colored ones.