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had shut down for the evening. Two workmen with unfiltered cigarettes jutting from the corners of their mouths were covering the Wild Mouse with a tarpaulin. The man in the Pitch-Til-U-Win was turning off his lights.
    â€œYou doing anything Saturday?” he asked, suddenly diffident. “I know it’s short notice, but . . .”
    â€œI have plans,” she said.
    â€œOh.”
    And she couldn’t bear his crestfallen expression, it was really too mean to tease him about that. “I’m doing something with you.”
    â€œYou are? . . . Oh, you are. Say, that’s good.” He grinned at her and she grinned back. The voice in her mind, which was sometimes as real to her as the voice of another human being, suddenly spoke up.
    You’re feeling good again, Sarah. Feeling happy. Isn’t it fine?
    â€œYes, it is,” she said. She went up on tiptoe and kissed him quickly. She made herself go on before she could chicken out. “It gets pretty lonely down there in Veazie sometimes, you know. Maybe I could . . . sort of spend the night with you.”
    He looked at her with warm thoughtfulness, and with aspeculation that made her tingle deep inside. “Would that be what you want, Sarah?”
    She nodded. “Very much what I want.”
    â€œAll right,” he said, and put an arm around her.
    â€œAre you sure?” Sarah asked a little shyly.
    â€œI’m just afraid you’ll change your mind.”
    â€œI won’t, Johnny.”
    He hugged her tighter against him. “Then it’s my lucky night.”
    They were passing the Wheel of Fortune as he said it, and Sarah would later remember that it was the only booth still open on that side of the midway for thirty yards in either direction. The man behind the counter had just finished sweeping the packed dirt inside for any spare dimes that might have fallen from the playing board during the night’s action. Probably his last chore before closing up, she thought. Behind him was his large spoked wheel, outlined by tiny electric bulbs. He must have heard Johnny’s remark, because he went into his pitch more or less automatically, his eyes still searching the dirt floor of his booth for the gleam of silver.
    â€œHey-hey-hey, if you feel lucky, mister, spin the Wheel of Fortune, turn dimes into dollars. It’s all in the Wheel, try your luck, one thin dime sets this Wheel of Fortune in motion.”
    Johnny swung back toward the sound of his voice.
    â€œJohnny?”
    â€œI feel lucky, just like the man said.” He smiled down at her. “Unless you mind . . . ?”
    â€œNo, go ahead. Just don’t take too long.”
    He looked at her again in that frankly speculative way that made her feel a little weak, wondering how it would be with him. Her stomach did a slow roll-over that made her feel a bit nauseated with sudden sexual longing.
    â€œNo, not long.” He looked at the pitchman. The midway behind them was almost completely empty now, and as the overcast had melted off above them it had turned chilly. The three of them were puffing white vapor as they breathed.
    â€œTry your luck, young man?”
    â€œYes.”
    He had switched all his cash to his front pocket when they arrived at the fair, and now he pulled out the remains of his eight dollars. It came to a dollar eighty-five.
    The playing board was a strip of yellow plastic with numbers and odds painted on it in squares. It looked a bit like aroulette board, but Johnny saw immediately that the odds here would have turned a Las Vegas roulette player gray. A trip combination paid off at only two to one. There were two house numbers, zero and double zero. He pointed this out to the pitchman who only shrugged.
    â€œYou want Vegas, go to Vegas. What can I say?”
    But Johnny’s good humor tonight was unshakable. Things had gotten off to a poor start with that mask, but it had been