arelessly, "Oh, yes; Miss Laskin. I remember her well. That
reminds me: you don't happen to have her address? I've got some things
she left at the office we can't use."

Tesla dug an address out of a soiled stack of papers. His pockets seemed
alive with soiled papers. Rachel's address was a piece of soiled paper
like any other piece of soiled paper. Mumbling silently, Dorn sighed.
Just in time. Anna again, and Meredith. He looked at them, recalling his
plot. Were they in love? Tesla--the blundering idiot--"I was telling
Dorn of a new artist I've found, Eddie. Rachel Laskin, a sort of Blake
and Beardsley and something else. Thin lines, screechy things. You'll
like them."

"Oh, yes, I always like them," Meredith smiled.

And Anna, "Oh, I know Rachel Laskin well. We're old friends. She's a
charming, wonderful girl. I liked her so much. Where is she?"

"In New York."

"I'll have to look at her work," Meredith added. "That's me. Always
looking at other people's work and saying, fine, great, and never
knowing a thing about it. Ye true art collector, eh, Emil?"

Anna went on, "Erik was amused with her. She is rather odd, you know,
and sort of wearing on the nerves. But you can't help liking her."

An amazing description of a face of stars. Dorn smiled.

Tesla said, "I only saw her once. A nervous girl, and she seemed upset."

More from Anna: "I hope she'll come back to Chicago. She was such fun. I
really miss her...."

All mad. Babbling of Rachel. Dorn stared cautiously about him. The
torment in him became a secret swollen beyond its proper dimensions.
They would look at him now and understand that he was not Erik Dorn, but
somebody else huddled up, burning and flopping around inside. Love was a
virulent form of idiocy. It meant nothing to people outside. Everything
inside. Anna talking about Rachel started a panic in him. She was
playing with memories of Rachel. Do you remember this? and that? As if
he, of course, had forgotten her. Yes, there was an "of course" about
it. A gruesome "of course." Gruesome--an excellent word. It meant Anna
petting and laughing over a knife that was to plunge itself into her
heart. When? Soon ... soon. He had an address copied from a soiled piece
of paper.

They bundled out of the cafe. Waiters, wraps. Eddie helped with the
wraps. Alien streets, dark waiting buildings, lights, and then
good-nights. The moments whirled mysteriously away. What did the moments
matter? He was going to R