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said, “I expect to be moving out in two days.”
    “Oh?” said Mrs. Grady. With that tone that can only be attained by landladies about to lose a tenant.
    Albert looked at her. He looked down at her bust. I felt myself tighten in anger. The look on his face made me want to drive my fist against it.
    “Is there something wrong here?” Mrs. Grady asked, a trifle peevishly. “Perhaps . . .”
    “No, no,” Peggy said, “it’s fine. I just want an apartment, that’s all.”
    “Well,” said Mrs. Grady. “Well.”
    “I just happened to stumble across it today,” Peggy said, “or else I would have given you more notice.”
    “I’m sure,” Albert said, his fat lips pursed irritably.
    More tightening in me.
    Peggy moved for her room. “Excuse me,” she said.
    I followed without thinking.
    “Gratitude,” Albert said. And when I was going into her room he said something else. Something about little trash.
    I felt myself lurching to a halt. I threw a glance over my shoulder. Then I felt Peggy’s restraining hand on my arm.
    In her room she looked at me.
    “I guess you should have waited outside,” she said.
    “What’s the difference?” I said, loud for all to hear. “Change your clothes and let’s get out of here.”
    She put up a screen and went behind it. I saw her halter and shorts flutter over the top and I tried to avoid thinking of Peggy standing there tanned and nude. I tried to concentrate on my rage at Albert. But your mind is hardly your own when it’s distracted by such merciless visions.
    She came out in a little while. During which time I sat listening to the angry voices of Mr. and Mrs. Grady, lovable duo. And I heard the word “trash” used again. Albert wasn’t hiding it.
    “We’d better go,” I said, “or I swear I’m liable to punch that slob in the nose.”
    Silence outside. I hoped they heard.
    “I wish you could leave tonight,” I said.
    “I . . . so do I,” she said. And in her voice I heard the mixture of revulsion and contempt and, yes, fear.
    They were talking when we went out into the front room again. But they shut up. They looked up at Peggy, who wore a light blue cotton dress and had a blue ribbon in her hair.
    “I’m afraid I won’t be able to refund your money,” said Mrs. Grady, revealing the depth of her soul.
    “I . . .” Peggy started.
    “She’s got no claim to it, mother,” Albert snapped bitterly, “no claim ‘soever.”
    “I don’t expect it back,” Peggy said. “I’m sure you don’t.” That was Albert.
    “Shut your mouth, Albert,” I said. Surprised at myself how easily it came.
    “Uh!”
    In unison. Mr. and Mrs. Grady were both outraged at my impertinence.
    “Come on,” I said and Peggy and I left.
    Hearing a muffled, “She’ll be sorry for this,” from Albert as we closed the front door behind us.
    “You shouldn’t have said that,” Peggy said as we got into the car. Then she laughed and it was nice to hear her laugh again.
    “Did you see the look on his face,” she said. “It was priceless.”
    We laughed for three blocks.
    * * *
    I parked the car on one of the streets that lead down to the Venice pier. And we walked down together, hand in hand. Unaware that we were being followed.
    We tried to hit a swinging gong at a shooting gallery. We nibbled on buttered popcorn and threw baseballs at stacked wooden bottles. We went down in the diving bell and watched tiger sharks circle the shell holding us, watched manta rays and heard the man say over and over, “They fly, ladies and gentlemen—they fly!” We rode the little scooter cars and bumped each other and Peggy laughed and her cheeks were bright with color.
    I don’t remember everything. I just remember the walking, hand in hand, the warm happiness of knowing she was with me. Remember her screams of mock fear as the roller coaster plummeted us down through the night and then up again, straight at the stars.
    I remember Funland.
    It’s a strange concession. One of