(Eunice, if I’m crazy, the only thing that worries me is that some damned shrink might cure me. Then you would go away.)
(That’s sweet of you, Boss. But I won’t go away; I promised.)
(And even if I am crazy, it just makes me fit that much better into the present world. Eunice, don’t you remember anything between being killed and waking up here?)
The inner voice was silent a moment. (Not really. There were dreams and I think you were in them. But there was one that does not seem like a dream; it seems as real as this room. But if I tell you, you’ll think 1 am crazy.) (If so, it doesn’t detract from your charm, dear.) (AU right but don’t laugh. Joan, while I was away, I was in this—place. There was an old, old Man with a long white beard. He had a great big book. He looked at it, then He looked at me and said, ‘Daughter, you’ve been a naughty girl. But not too naughty, so I’m going to give you a second chance.’)
(A dream, Eunice. Anthropomorphism, straight out of your childhood Sunday School.) (Maybe, Boss. But here I am and I do have a second chance.)
(Yes, but God didn’t give it to you. Eunice my own, I don’t believe in God nor Devil.)
(Well . . . you haven’t been dead—and 1 have. Truly I don’t know what I believe; I guess I wasn’t dead long enough to find out. But do you mind if we pray occasionally?”)
(Jesus H. Christ!)
(Stop that, Joan! Or I’ll use every one of those words you consider ‘unladylike.’ It’s not much to ask.)
(I’m henpecked. Okay. If it’s a beautiful church, with good music, and the sermon isn’t over ten minutes.) (Oh, I didn’t mean in a church. Can’t stand ‘em. Filled with bad vibrations. I mean pray by ourselves, Joan. I’ll teach you.) (Oh. All right. Now?)
(No, I want to get these search orders in. You think about something else; I don’t want centipede trouble—think about Winnie all slickery with soapsuds.) (A pious thought. Much better than prayer.) (Dirty old man. How do you know—I’ll bet you’ve never prayed in your life.) (Oh, yes, I have, dearest—but God had gone fishing.) (So think about Winnie.)
She was busy for several minutes. Then she patted the machine affectionately and switched it off. (Well, did you?) (Did I what?) (Did you think about Winnie? Lecher.) (I took advantage of the unusual peace and quiet to contemplate the wonders of the universe.) (So?) (I thought about Winnie.) (I know you did; I was right with you. Joan, for a girl who is, in one sense at least, a virgin, you have an unusually low and vivid imagination.) (Aw, shucks, I’ll bet you say that to all the girls.) (The stark truth, Joan sweet—with your imagination I can hardly wait for you you start us on that ‘actively female’ career. In all the wrestling I’ve done I’ve never had a man—or a girl—grab me the way you were thinking about.) (Oh. Learned that one from a respectable housewife, clear back in my teens. A most charming lady.) (Hmm! Perhaps, I was born too late for the real action.) (So I’ve been trying to tell you. Did you get those orders in?) (Certainly, Boss, when did I ever miss? Let’s get back to our chair; our back is tired.)
Joan Eunice negotiated the thirty feet back to her chair without remembering that she had kicked off her pumps to handle the lower controls of the stenodesk more easily; the rug simply felt good to her bare feet. Then she did notice as she sat down in the big easy chair and folded her legs in the awkward, elegant, and surprisingly comfortable Lotus position. But it did not seem worthwhile to go get them.
The door buzzer sounded. “It’s me, Winnie.”
“Come in, dear.”
The nurse entered. “Mr. Salomon asked me to tell you that he will be in to see you in a few minutes. But he can’t stay for dinner.”
“He’ll stay. Come here and kiss me. What did you tell Cunningham?”
“Dinner for two, in here, just as you said—to be served when you rang. But Mr. Salomon seemed quite firm about leaving.”