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understand that case tells me that you have good parents, at least I think you must.”
    â€œHad,” he said briefly. “They were killed in a car accident almost three years ago. I was driving.”
    â€œHow awful for you!” She frowned in sympathy. “I suppose you keep asking yourself whether you could have prevented it.”
    â€œI’m fairly over that. I’m ninety-nine percent sure Icouldn’t have. But I still can’t bear having to pass the place where it happened.”
    His glance traveled over her head to the window. She had an immediate sense that he was closing the conversation, as if he felt he had talked too long, said too much, and was prepared to leave her.
    And then, abruptly, he returned to her. “You haven’t said anything about yourself. They tell me you’re an artist and have had a book accepted.”
    â€œHow news is distorted in the telling! All I have is a little talent for sketching and watercolors. One of the instructors at college had written a children’s book and asked me to do some illustrations, which I’ve done, and now we are hoping some publisher will buy it. Hoping.”
    â€œYou wouldn’t have been asked to illustrate a book if you hadn’t a great deal more than merely a little talent.”
    â€œI don’t know. I love art, that’s all. I have had thoughts of a museum job in New York or some place, but here I am at home. I told you why. So I’ll just keep looking for somebody who wants illustrations. Meanwhile, I fill in the time at the hospital, doing a bit of good.”
    â€œSpeaking of time,” Robb said, “the bank’s going to close in half an hour.”
    She stood up at once. “Of course. It’s been so nice talking to you.”
    On the sidewalk opposite the bank, she thought of something. “We’re having a barbecue next Saturday at my house. Joan Evans and I are giving it and we’reinviting the same crowd that was at the jazz club that time when you were there. I hope you’ll come.”
    He looked startled, and answering, almost stammered. “Well, thank you, but I’m not sure where I’ll be next weekend. I’ll—I’ll let you know. Or I’ll tell Eddy or something, I mean.”
    â€œWhatever,” she said at once.
    His reply irked her. It was a rejection. She was annoyed with herself, too, for having coaxed him into the coffee shop in the first place. She wasn’t accustomed to coaxing men. He had confused her by first showing so much emotion about that case in court, and then being so stiff and frozen. Yet he had a quality that drew her.
    For a moment as she watched him cross the street, she had a curious sense of loss. Absurd! Then she started the car and drove away.
    It was a long trudge back from the bank, and Robb took his time. He was thinking, as he had thought on that other day, she is not afraid of anything. She was obviously very intelligent, but far too forward for his taste. He hadn’t wanted a drink, and didn’t want to go to the barbecue. That’s not to say he wouldn’t enjoy a Saturday outing with the rest of the crowd, only not at Ellen’s house. Yes, “forward” was the word, he told himself, aware at the same moment that he was very much behind the times. Lily would never have pressured a man like that. But then Lily, too, was behind the times in many ways—though definitely not as a lover!
    Ellen was
different
, and he didn’t mean differentonly from Lily. He had been around enough women, other men’s women, during these latest years, and had never met anyone like her. It was odd that he had not noticed before how remarkably beautiful she really was. Of course, if you wanted to pick her features apart, you could say that it was only her wide, alert eyes, so intensely green, that made her seem beautiful. Those eyes made no modest attempt to hide what she thinks of me, he