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ajar, at his injured finger.
"What?" he said.
    "How
did you cut it?"
    "Goddam
if I know," he said, his inflection implying that the answer to
that question was hopelessly obscure. "I was lookin' for
something in the goddam wastebasket and it was fulla razor blades."
    "You
Selena's brother?" Ginnie asked.
    "Yeah.
Christ, I'm bleedin' to death. Stick around. I may need a goddam
transfusion."
    "Did
you put anything on it?"
    Selena's
brother carried his wound slightly forward from his chest and
unveiled it for Ginnie's benefit. "Just some goddam toilet
paper," he said. "Stopsa bleeding. Like when you cut
yourself shaving." He looked at Ginnie again. "Who are
you?" he asked. "Friend of the jerk's?"
    "We're
in the same class."
    "Yeah?
What's your name?"
    "Virginia
Mannox."
    "You
Ginnie?" he said, squinting at her through his glasses. "You
Ginnie Mannox?"
    "Yes,"
said Ginnie, uncrossing her legs.
    Selena's
brother turned back to his finger, obviously for him the true and
only focal point in the room. "I know your sister," he said
dispassionately. "Goddam snob."
    Ginnie
arched her back.
    "Who
is?"
    "You
heard me."
    "She
is not a snob!"
    "The
hell she's not," said Selena's brother.
    "She
is not!"
    "The
hell she's not. She's the queen. Queen of the goddam snobs."
    Ginnie
watched him left up and peer under the thick folds of toilet paper on
his finger.
    "You
don't even know my sister."
    "Hell
I don't."
    "What's
her name? What's her first name?" Ginnie demanded.
    "Joan.
. . . Joan the Snob."
    Ginnie
was silent. "What's she look like?" she asked suddenly.
    No
answer.
    "What's
she look like?" Ginnie repeated.
    "If
she was half as good-looking as she thinks she is, she'd be goddam
lucky," Selena's brother said. This had the stature of an
interesting answer, in Ginnie's secret opinion.
    "I
never heard her mention you," she said.
    "That
worries me. That worries hell outa me."
    "Anyway,
she's engaged," Ginnie said, watching him. "She's gonna be
married next month."
    "Who
to?" he asked, looking up.
    Ginnie
took full advantage of his having looked up. "Nobody you know."
    He
resumed picking at his own first-aid work. "I pity him," he
said.
    Ginnie
snorted.
    "It's
still bleedin' like mad. Ya think I oughta put something on it?
What's good to put on it? Mercurochrome any good?"
    "Iodine's
better," Ginnie said. Then, feeling her answer was too civil
under the circumstances, she added, "Mercurochrome's no good at
all for that."
    "Why
not? What's the matter with it?"
    "It
just isn't any good for that stuff, that's all. Ya need iodine."
    He
looked at Ginnie. "It stings a lot, though, doesn't it?" he
asked. "Doesn't it sting a helluva lot?"
    "It
stings," Ginnie said, "but it won't kill you or anything."
    Apparently
without resenting Ginnie's tone, Selena's brother turned back to his
finger. "I don't like it when it stings," he said.
    "Nobody
does."
    He
nodded in agreement. "Yeah," he said.
    Ginnie
watched him for a minute. "Stop touching it," she said
suddenly.
    As
though responding to an electric shock, Selena's brother pulled back
his uninjured hand. He sat up a trifle straighter--or rather, slumped
a trifle less. He looked at some object on the other side of the
room. An almost dreamy expression came over his disorderly features.
He inserted the nail of his uninjured index finger into the crevice
between two front teeth and, removing a food particle, turned to
Ginnie. "Jeat jet?" he asked.
    "What?"
    "Jeat
lunch yet?"
    Ginnie
shook her head. "I'll eat when I get home," she said. "My
mother always has lunch ready for me when I get home."
    "I
got a half a chicken sandwich in my room. Ya want it? I didn't touch
it or anything."
    "No,
thank you. Really."
    "You
just played tennis, for Chrissake. Aren'tcha hungry?"
    "It
isn't that," said Ginnie, crossing her legs. "It's just
that my mother always has lunch ready when I get home. She goes
insane if I'm not hungry, I mean."
    Selena's
brother seemed to accept this explanation. At least, he nodded and
looked