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she was, had to get some idea of the kind of person he had enjoyed himself with so completely.
    He had to see her again.
    He sat up suddenly and turned on the overhead light, blinking at the sudden brightness. He found what he was looking for in the pocket of his slacks—a tiny scrap of paper with a hasty scrawl on it. For a moment he hesitated, uncertain. Then, resolutely, he put on his bathrobe and stalked into the hallway to the pay phone. He dropped a dime into the slot and began to dial a number.

Chapter Four
    HER SHOWER THE next morning left Carla refreshed and awake, but she found herself unable to rinse the events of the previous day from her mind. Perhaps it was no more than her imagination, but her hand still seemed to tingle where Charles’ fingers had held it so firmly. He was a new type of man, a man infinitely more sophisticated than any of the boys she had grown up with, yet far more romantic and intense than any of Ronald’s other friends.
    Her vow of last night didn’t seem to help matters. Although she knew how fatal it would be to have an affair with Charles, she felt weak and powerless inside. If only there was someone for her to talk things over with! She couldn’t figure everything out by herself, not when so many things were happening so quickly.
    She dressed and polished off her breakfast in short order. Thoughtfully, she smoked a cigarette and took a long look out the breakfast-room window. The yard next door was a blaze of color, with roses climbing the sides of the garage and other flowers competing with them for her attention. It was funny, she thought. The people on Nottingham were lucky enough to have gardens and the time to work in them, and they sacrificed that pleasure by hiring a gardener to take care of all the work. It didn’t make much sense.
    She wondered vaguely who the neighbors might be. Ronald had told her once but the name didn’t stick in her mind. That was the big trouble. She didn’t really know anyone, not even the people next door.
    The cigarette burned down and she ground it out in the red beanbag ashtray. “Lizzie!” she called.
    Lizzie hurried into the breakfast-room, looking stunning in her white uniform. Her eyes were very bright, and they held a perpetual expression of wisdom. Perhaps, Carla thought, the girl might be able to give her some help.
    â€œSit down for a minute, Lizzie.”
    Lizzie hesitated for a minute, then took a seat across the table from Carla. “Is anything the matter?” she asked. “Was your breakfast all right, Mrs. Macon?”
    â€œEverything’s fine. I just wanted to talk with you for a minute or two.”
    The girl relaxed visibly and smiled.
    â€œLizzie, I—Do you go out much with boys?”
    â€œSometimes.”
    â€œWell, do you ever—I mean—”
    Lizzie smiled. “Mrs. Macon, are you trying to ask me if I ever sleep with a man?”
    â€œWhy, I—”
    â€œThat’s all right; I don’t mind talking, Mrs. Macon. I’m not a virgin, if that’s what you mean.”
    Carla pulled another cigarette from the pack and lighted it, embarrassed and mildly envious of the ease with which the girl spoke. She tried to put herself in Lizzie’s position, realizing as she did so that she could never talk so freely to an employer.
    â€œThat’s not exactly what I meant,” she said, blowing out a cloud of smoke. “I just wondered how you felt about things between a man and woman.”
    â€œAbout sex?”
    â€œThat’s what I mean.”
    â€œI don’t spend too much time thinking about it, Mrs. Macon.”
    Carla paused, searching for the right phrase. “How do you feel about it, though?” she asked. “I mean, do you think it’s right sometimes and wrong other times? That sometimes a man and woman have a right to sleep together and other times they shouldn’t?” She paused, expectantly.
    Lizzie