Odd Girl by Artemis Smith Page B

of a Bach chorale playing next door, and the sunlight through the blinds told her that it was a beautiful day. She forgot Beth for the moment as she awoke, thought of the smell of fresh coffee and her own radio which should be turned on. And then she remembered Carl and Esther and her appointment with them.
    It was better not to think of last night and put the problem of Beth away, far away. It helped to think of Esther; it eased the frightened feeling inside her stomach.
    She sat up and let the streaks of sun touch her legs. Her legs seemed pale and thin in the light. She was nude and she felt pale and thin in the cool fall on Sunday morning.
    But she felt somehow strong. Strength was in her chest and limbs. She rose and let all her body meet the sun.
    She did not put on her clothes and made breakfast, feeling herself a child of nature with the sunlight streaking not through Venetian blinds but through the branches of trees. I am too drawn within myself, she thought; I must feel free and naked and not care so terribly much about what happens to me.
    Again she thought of Esther, and then self-consciousness overtook her and she blushed. I wonder how Esther would react? Again the indecision. I mustn't care so terribly much about what happens.
    The clock now said one. There was hardly enough time to dress and get there. Anne gulped the remaining coffee, gobbled one piece of toast and hurried to the shower. She let the warm water wake her and then half-dried herself and splashed on cologne.
    There was no time to prepare properly for Esther, no time for exotic bubble baths, facials, manicures. Today she would be informal. Today she would tie her long hair in a pony tail and put on her Italian slacks. Tan shoes and a striped silk blouse finished the outfit. Anne paused to consider wearing lipstick and mascara and then decided not to. Esther would see her today as she had seen Anne that first evening at the Florentin.
    She stopped to feed and pet Portia and then rushed out and hailed a taxi.
    * * *
    Carl's house was the only house out of the sun. It stood dark and cold, with its ominous front door, and the hollow sound of the doorbell gave Anne a chill. She shuddered for a moment at this contrast but would not allow herself to be frightened. She was here to meet Esther.
    The small maid appeared, white in the dark of the hallway, bowing a welcome.
    Anne knew the way to the library and walked past the dark to the dull light of the doorway and stood just as Esther had stood yesterday evening. Carl was sitting in his chair, a breakfast tray on his lap.
    "Come in," he hailed, "and have some coffee, etcetera."
    "Thanks," Anne said, "just coffee."
    She waited at the door, hoping to see Esther.
    "She's in the garden," Carl said, reading her thoughts.
    Anne was embarrassed. Carl knew she distrusted him, knew she had not come to visit him. And then Esther entered.
    "Hello," Esther smiled. She was dressed almost like Anne, with a striped shirt and dark slacks, and she wore no makeup. She was thin and tall and beautiful.
    "Sit down and I'll get you coffee," she said.
    Anne went to the sofa and waited impatiently for her to return. She did not wish to speak to Carl. She sensed an air of hostility in him today, worse than the one of yesterday. But perhaps it was her own hostility. She couldn't be sure. They were certainly not going to be friends.
    "Relax," Carl said bluntly. "She likes you."
    He was being sarcastic and now Anne knew why he was behaving this way. They had discussed her before she came, and Carl had lost—at least for today. Anne felt in a way sorry. She did not want Esther to hurt him. She smiled and winked at Carl and it brought a smile back to his face.
    Now Esther returned with two mugs and sat on the sofa beside Anne and handed her one mug. "Milk's over there," she motioned.
    Anne held her mug and looked at Esther. She was pale.
    "Nice to see you," Esther said.
    There was silence. Anne took a gulp of black coffee.
    "Would you