in her eyes that he had seen when she first walked into the Schirra's party.
    "If that's what you want to call it," she said.
    He was flustered. "I didn't mean to call it anything; It just kind of surprised me."
    "It's it so rare these days, for an unmarried girl to be pure?"
    He pulled a face. "Well. . . yes, I guess it is. Some-low you don't expect it. It's 
just that . . . well, you don't..."
    "I don't look like a virgin?"
    "I didn't say that."
    "You didn't have to. You've been telling me how sexy you think I am from the moment 
you first said hello. If you think I'm sexy, you must think I sleep With men."
    "That's not true at all. When T say you're sexy, I mean that you have a direct 
sensual effect on me personally. When I look at you, when I'm near you, I'm sexually 
aroused. Now, that's a compliment, not an ia-sult, and I wish you'd take it for what it 
is."
    Lone said nothing. He thought at first that he'd successfully offended her, but when 
he glanced across at her again he saw that she was sitting there with a tiny, amused 
smile on her face.
    "Jesus Christ," he said, "you're the strangest girl I ever met. And I've met some 
strange ones."
    She laughed. Then she pointed ahead to Mathieu's car and said, "You'd better watch 
the road. We're almost there."
    They were four or five miles out of the city center now, in a leafy and expensive 
suburb of ante-bellum houses with pillared porches and white-painted shutters. Mathieu 
turned off at a narrow, winding side road that led them upward through a tunnel of 
overhanging trees, and soon they were driving alongside a high wall of mature brick, 
overgrown with moss and creepers and topped with rows of long, rusty spikes.
    "That's the wall of our garden," said Lorie. "The louse is just around here."
    They turned a sharp corner, and then Mathieu's Irake lights glared. They stopped. 
They were parked in a semi-circular driveway that led up to a pair ol high-wrought-iron 
gates. Beyond the gates Gene could see a freshly graveled, private road that led away 
into the gloom, but the house was obviously set too far back to be seen from the road.
    Mathieu didn't leave his car, but sat there with his engine still turning over, 
watching them in his rear-view mirror. The plume of exhaust rose from the back of his 
limousine into the rainy night
    "Is this the end of the line? Chez Semple?" Gene asked.
    "That's right," Lorie said, tying up the string of her cape.
    "You mean I just drop you here and that's it?"
    She looked at him with those green, feline eyes. "What did you expect? You offered to 
drive me home, and now you've driven me home."
    "I don't even get invited in for a mug of Ovaltine?"
    She shook her head. "I'm sorry. I'd like to, but another hasn't been too well."
    "I'm not going to ask her to make it."
    "Make what?"
    "The Ovaltine, of course. She can stay in bed if she likes."
    Lorie reached out and touched the back of his hand.
    "Gene," she said, "you're very sweet, and I like you-"
    "But you're not going to invite me in. All right, I get the picture."
    "It's not that."
    He raised his hands in mode-surrender. "I know •what it is and what it isn't," he 
said. "You're a lovely young girl with, a close-knit family, and you've always done 
everything with Momma's approval, in the right, old-fashioned way. Well, suppose I said 
that's all right by me."
    "Meaning?"
    "Meaning I'll call on you tomorrow at some respectable hour, present myself to your 
mother, and ask if I can take you out for lunch. I will even undertake to return you, 
unraped, before dusk."
    She stared at him for a long moment, and then slowly shook her head.
    "Gene," she said, "it's impossible.'*
    "What's impossible about lunch?"
    She turned away. "I like you," she said. "That's •what's impossible about lunch."
    "You like me, so you won't go out with me? What kind of logic is that?"
    She opened the door of the car. "Gene," she said softly, "I really think it's better 
if you just forget you ever met me. Please-for your own sake. I don't want you to get 
hurt."
    Gene rubbed his neck in exasperation. "Lorie," he told her, "I'm really old enough to 
look after myself. I may not be an expert in Israeli kung-fu, but I've been through 
enough emotional experiences to have a certain protective coating of scar tissue. If I 
backed away from every potential relationship just because I thought I was going to get 
hurt-Jesus, I'd end up a virgin, just like you."
    "Gene, please."
    "It's all very well saying 'please' like that, but I don't understand. If you find me 
incredibly ugly and objectionable, I could follow your thinking, but it's pretty plain 
that you don't. I've driven you home. I've told you I think you're beautiful. Don't I 
even deserve an explanation?"
    She didn't answer at first. One side of her face was lit red by the light of 
Mathieu's taillights, and the other side was in shadow. Gene was uncomfortably reminded 
of Mathieu's constant observation by the ceaseless drone of the Cadillac's eight-liter 
engine. In some .way that he couldn't grasp, he felt extremely defenseless and open to 
danger, as if this curious situation was suddenly going to turn nasty.
    "Gene," whispered Lorie. "I'm going."
    She started to climb out of the car, but he reached out and held her wrist. For a 
split second, she tugged away from him with a strength that almost had him off-balance, 
but then she abruptly relaxed, as if by conscious effort, and allowed him to pull her 
gently back into the passenger seat.
    He reached over and kissed her. Her lips were very soft and moist against his, but 
she wouldn't open them. He held her closer, trying to push the tip of his tongue into her 
mouth, but she held her head back stiffly and wouldn't let him. She didn't seem to resist 
as long as he was happy with a junior-high-school, lips-closed kiss, but with a girl as 
sensual as Lorie, he found that the sheer frustration of it was almost more than he could 
take.
    His left hand touched her shoulder. With his mouth against hers, she tried to push 
him 'away, said "mmmm-mmmmhhh," and wriggled. For one brief tantalizing moment, his 
fingers caressed her breast, heavy and taut and warm, but then he felt a sharp bite on 
his tongue, and she twisted away from him, and climbed awkwardly out of the car.
    He dabbed his mouth with his fingers. There was blood on them, and he felt the sickly 
taste of it running down his throat He took his clean white handkerchief out of his 
breast pocket, and held it against Ms lips.
    Lone stood there, anxious and frowning, he didn't look up at her at all. Christ! 
Bitten by d goddamn high-school virgin! He didn't know who made him angrier-Lorie for 
.making a midnight snack out of his tongue, or himself for trying to kiss a broad who