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if she was going on a spree.”
    â€œMaybe she was.”
    â€œOh, no. She doesn’t drink.”
    â€œI wasn’t thinking of that kind of a spree.”
    â€œThen why don’t you say what you think?”
    â€œMaybe I will, sometime.”
    â€œI can hardly wait.”
    â€œNow what are you miffed about?”
    â€œYou’re so condescending.”
    â€œI don’t feel that way,” he said gravely. “In fact, right now I’m confused. I can go down to lower Fifth Street and look in the window of a house, any house, and tell you quite a lot about the people who live there. But I’m not used to houses like this or girls like Virginia or women like Mrs. Hamilton.”
    â€œOr like me?” The question slipped out unintention­ally, like a line from a fishing reel left unguarded for a moment.
    â€œI think I know quite a bit about you, Alice.”
    â€œOh? You’ve met dozens like me, I suppose.”
    â€œA few.”
    She turned away so that he couldn’t see the angry flush that stained her face.
    He didn’t see it, though he guessed it was there. “Why does that make you mad?”
    â€œI’m not mad.”
    â€œYou wouldn’t want to be absolutely unique, would you, like a three-headed calf or something?”
    â€œOf course not.” I would, she thought violently. I want to be absolutely unique.
    â€œI’m sorry if I offended you,” he said with a trace of a smile. “It’s just that I knew a three-headed calf once, and all it ever wanted to be was ordinary.”
    â€œThis is a ridiculous conversation,” Alice said. “I think you’d better stick to looking in windows on lower Fifth Street, Mr. Meecham.”
    â€œI don’t look in. . .”
    â€œYou said you did.”
    â€œI said I could. ”
    â€œAnybody can. You hardly need any special equipment for window peeping.”
    â€œI am not a window peeper.”
    â€œWell, you said you were.”
    â€œI did not say I . . .”
    â€œI heard you distinctly.”
    Meecham shook his head in exasperation. “All right. All right, I’m a window peeper.”
    â€œI can believe it.”
    â€œI think I’ve changed my mind about you, Alice. You are unique. Absolutely unique and impossible.”
    Alice gazed at him blandly. “I’d rather be impossible than ordinary. Mrs. Hamilton says I can be anything if I try.”
    â€œMrs. Hamilton’s an authority?”
    â€œOn most things.”
    â€œI wouldn’t be too sure,” he said. “Don’t get stuck on the old girl. She might let you down.”
    From outside there came the sound of footsteps hurry­ing across the patio. A moment later the front door burst open and Mrs. Hamilton came rushing into the room. Her coat was flying open and her hat had slid to the back of her head. She looked blowsy and old and scared.
    As she turned to close the door behind her the parcels she was carrying slid out of her arms and dropped to the floor. There was a muffled shatter of glass, and almost in­stantly the smell of lilacs crept poignantly into the room like a remembered spring.
    â€œTurn off the lights, Alice,” she said. “Don’t ask ques­tions. Turn them off.”
    Alice did as she was told. Without lights the smell of li­lacs seemed stronger, and Mrs. Hamilton’s harsh breathing rose and fell in the darkness.
    â€œSomeone is out there. A man. He’s been following me.”
    Meecham coughed, faintly. She took it as a sign of dis­belief.
    â€œNo, I’m not imagining things, Mr. Meecham,” she said sharply. “He followed me from the bus stop. I couldn’t get a cab downtown so I took the bus. This man got off at the same corner as I did. He followed me. I think he meant to rob me.”
    â€œHe may live in one of the houses around here,” Meecham said.
    â€œNo. He came after me quite deliberately