f
silence spun into a kaleidoscopic jumble, shifted infinitesimally, and
fell into an incredible new pattern. Understanding displaced terror and
was, in turn, displaced by indignation. She stared accusingly at her
interrogator. "But you look just like ... just like anybody."

"You expected perhaps three legs or a long bushy tail or teeth like
that textbook tiger?"

"And you're a psychiatrist!"

"What else? Would you have talked to me like this across a grocery
counter, Lucilla? Or listened to me, if I'd been driving a bus or
filling a prescription? Would I have found the others in a bowling
alley or a business office?"

"Then there are ... others?" She let out her breath on a long sigh
involuntarily glancing again at the framed picture. "Only I love Paul,
and he isn't ... he can't...."

"Nor can Carol." His eyes were steady on hers, yet she felt as if he
were looking through and beyond her. For no reason at all, she
strained her ears for the sound of footsteps or the summons of a
voice. "Where do you suppose the second little blob of protoplasm with
legs came from?" Dr. Andrews asked. "And the third? If that ape who
found he could stand erect had walked lonesomely off into the sunset
like a second-rate actor on a late, late show, where do you suppose
you'd be today?"

He broke off abruptly and watched with Lucilla as the office door
edged open. The small girl who inched her way around it wore blue
jeans and a pony tail rather than an organdy frock and curls, but her
pixie smile matched that of the girl in the photograph Lucilla had
glanced at again and again.

"You wanted me, Daddy?" she asked, but she looked toward Lucilla.

"I thought you'd like to meet someone with the same nickname as
yours," Dr. Andrews said, rising to greet her. "Lucky, meet Lucky."

"Hello," the child said, then her smile widened. "Hello!" (But I don't
have to say it, do I? I can talk to you just the way I talk to Daddy
and Uncle Whitney and Big Bill).

"Hello yourself," said Lucilla. This time when the corners of her
mouth began to tick upward, she made no attempt to stop them. (Of
course you can, darling. And I can answer you the same way, and you'll
hear me.)

Dr. Andrews reached for the open pack of cigarettes on his deck. (Is
this strictly a private conversation, girls, or can I get in on it,
too?)

(It's unpolite to interrupt, Daddy.)

(He's not exactly interrupting--it was his conversation to begin
with!)

Dr. Andrews'