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there. I’m a teller and I also help out with the bookkeeping, because I was trained for it in college. I majored in sociology, but I never finished college. I suppose I’ll be one of those people who raise a family and then go back to school and finish.”
    She was probably a bit lazy, he thought, very easygoing and lazy. “You’re going to be married soon?”
    “Um-hm, in the spring. Greg wants it sooner, but after all, we’ve hardly known each other four months. His name is Greg Wyncoop. He sells pharmaceuticals.”
    Robert felt suddenly uncomfortable. “You’re going to see him tonight?”
    “No, he’s on the road tonight. He’s coming back tomorrow.” She accepted absently the cigarette he offered, took his light as if she were unused to smoking.
    “You’re very much in love with him?” He wanted her to be.
    “I think so,” she answered earnestly. “No wild excitement like—Well, there was a fellow in Scranton I liked better, two years ago, but he married someone else. Greg’s a marvelous fellow. He’s awfully nice. And our families like each other; that’s a help. My family didn’t approve of the fellow I liked in Scranton. Not that I’d have let that bother me, but it makes things harder.”
    It sounded very dull to Robert, and regrettable. She didn’t love Greg enough, from the way she spoke. But she might be just the sort of girl to make a success of a marriage to a man she wasn’t passionate about, yet really liked. Look what had happened to him and Nickie after their enthusiastic start. He was about to push his chair back and get up when she said, “I think I’m afraid of marriage.” She was staring at the ashtray, her cheek propped on her hand with its long fingers turned under.
    “I’ve heard of girls saying that before they’re married. Men, too.”
    “Have you ever been married?”
    “No.”
    “I can’t imagine anyone easier to marry than Greg, so I suppose if I ever do it, it’s got to be him.”
    “I hope you’ll be very happy.” He stood up. “I must go. Thanks—thanks for—”
    “Do you like cookies?”
    He watched her open the oven door, then pull some wax paper from a roll and tear it off. Each cookie had a raisin in its center. She put half a dozen or so on the wax paper.
    “I know,” she said shyly, “you think I’m crackers or something. Maybe it’s the Christmas spirit. But there’s nothing wrong with giving somebody cookies, is there?”
    “I think it’s very nice,” he replied, and they both laughed. He put the cookies gently into the pocket of his overcoat. “Thank you very much.” He went to the door.
    “If you’d ever like to talk again—well, call me up and come over. I’d like you to meet Greg. We don’t have to tell him—that we met the way we did. He wouldn’t understand, probably. I’ll tell him—oh, for instance, you’re a friend Rita introduced me to.”
    Robert shook his head. “Thanks, Miss Thierolf. I certainly don’t think Greg would understand. It’s probably just as well I don’t meet him.” He saw at once that she took it as a rejection of her, too. Well, so be it, he thought.
    “I hope you call sometime,” she said simply as she went to the door. “Don’t you have a car?”
    “Down the road a bit.” His shame was back, in full force. “Goodbye.”
    “Goodbye.” She put on the porch light for him.
    The light let him see a few yards on the driveway, and then he used his flashlight. Once on the road, he began to whistle a tune, out of nervousness, shame, madness—or all three.
    Half an hour later, he was home. He lit a cigarette, and then the telephone rang. It was Nickie calling from New York.
    “Well, where’ve you been?”
    Robert sat down and slumped in the chair in order to sound pleasant and relaxed. “Out for a while. Sorry. You’ve been trying to get me?”
    “For hours. I bring you good tidings of great joy. You’re going to be a free man in a month. And I’m marrying Ralph as soon as I