anywhere. But it was entertaining. He's the first man I've met for ten years who was worth the trouble." Seeing Karen's expression, she laughed and shook her head. "Lighten up, Karen. Just because I like to kid around doesn't mean I don't take this seriously. The time I spent with Simon was very productive. He understands my interest in the historical aspects of the manuscript, and he has agreed to do us a big favor. He won't divulge the name of the original owner—quite properly, as I informed him— but he will forward a letter."
"I never thought of that," Karen said.
"No, you didn't." Peggy's eyes narrowed speculatively. "You ought to have thought of it. You're losing not only your sense of humor but your sense of proportion. I take it your pursuit of the bastard yielded nothing of interest?"
"I know where he's staying. We could call him and invite him to have dinner with us."
"Hmmm."
"I was kidding," Karen hastened to assure her.
"To convince me you haven't lost your sense of humor? The idea has its merits, you know. I could referee while you two fenced with one another; he must know you are a strong contender." After pondering for a moment, Peggy said regretfully, "No, it would be a waste of time. He hasn't got it, you know. Simon assured me he wouldn't let it out of his hands. Since Meyer is staying overnight, he may be planning to come back for another look tomorrow."
"He can come and go unobserved, so far as I'm concerned," Karen said. "I must have been out of my mind to do something so undignified and so unproductive." Peggy's pensive, thoughtful expression aroused a horrible suspicion. Karen went on insistently, "We can't play the same silly trick again, Simon will be looking out for us. He knows about the bar—"
"There's a porn shop next to the bar," Peggy began, but the horror on Karen's face was too much for her. She burst out laughing. "You ask for it, Karen. You've got to stop being such a patsy. We'll have a nice quiet dinner a deux—without distracting male presences—and I'll spend the rest of the evening on a paper I was supposed to have finished last month while you write that letter."
The program was duly carried out. Peggy was still sitting at the desk, head bent over her work, when Karen finished the letter, and her concentration was so intense Karen decided not to interrupt her. She read for a while and then got into bed. "Will the light bother you?" Peggy asked, without looking up.
"No, not at all." Karen wondered what Peggy would say if she admitted she had been sleeping with a night-light for the past week—ever since the dreams began.
Sleep did not come quickly. The day's events kept running through her mind: the futile, infuriating pursuit of Meyer, the ridiculous charade they had performed in the bar. She would never dare show her face there again. Not that she had any inclination to do so ... Who could have suspected Peggy would behave so childishly? Did everyone have a secret personality, a hidden self? The woman she had seen today was more like Peggy's evil twin than the distinguished professor she had known. Simon had apparently enjoyed her, though. Simon was somewhat schizophrenic himself. The practical joker meets the evil twin. Smiling, she drifted off.
Darkness like black earth pressing down on her face and flaring nostrils . . . She caught at the hands that held her, clinging as if to a rope offering escape from the dark abyss of sleep.
"It's all right." The voice recalled memories of other nights when she had waked crying in the night and found comfort at hand. "Just a bad dream. You're safe, you're okay."
"I'm sorry," Karen gasped. "Did I wake you?"
"I wasn't asleep." Peggy released her hands and sat down on the edge of the bed. "That must have been a bang-up nightmare. You sounded as if you were being strangled."
"Smothered."
"Oh, swell. Is this by any chance a dig at my smoking? I had the window open, but ..."
"I've had the same dream before." Karen sat up and
"I never thought of that," Karen said.
"No, you didn't." Peggy's eyes narrowed speculatively. "You ought to have thought of it. You're losing not only your sense of humor but your sense of proportion. I take it your pursuit of the bastard yielded nothing of interest?"
"I know where he's staying. We could call him and invite him to have dinner with us."
"Hmmm."
"I was kidding," Karen hastened to assure her.
"To convince me you haven't lost your sense of humor? The idea has its merits, you know. I could referee while you two fenced with one another; he must know you are a strong contender." After pondering for a moment, Peggy said regretfully, "No, it would be a waste of time. He hasn't got it, you know. Simon assured me he wouldn't let it out of his hands. Since Meyer is staying overnight, he may be planning to come back for another look tomorrow."
"He can come and go unobserved, so far as I'm concerned," Karen said. "I must have been out of my mind to do something so undignified and so unproductive." Peggy's pensive, thoughtful expression aroused a horrible suspicion. Karen went on insistently, "We can't play the same silly trick again, Simon will be looking out for us. He knows about the bar—"
"There's a porn shop next to the bar," Peggy began, but the horror on Karen's face was too much for her. She burst out laughing. "You ask for it, Karen. You've got to stop being such a patsy. We'll have a nice quiet dinner a deux—without distracting male presences—and I'll spend the rest of the evening on a paper I was supposed to have finished last month while you write that letter."
The program was duly carried out. Peggy was still sitting at the desk, head bent over her work, when Karen finished the letter, and her concentration was so intense Karen decided not to interrupt her. She read for a while and then got into bed. "Will the light bother you?" Peggy asked, without looking up.
"No, not at all." Karen wondered what Peggy would say if she admitted she had been sleeping with a night-light for the past week—ever since the dreams began.
Sleep did not come quickly. The day's events kept running through her mind: the futile, infuriating pursuit of Meyer, the ridiculous charade they had performed in the bar. She would never dare show her face there again. Not that she had any inclination to do so ... Who could have suspected Peggy would behave so childishly? Did everyone have a secret personality, a hidden self? The woman she had seen today was more like Peggy's evil twin than the distinguished professor she had known. Simon had apparently enjoyed her, though. Simon was somewhat schizophrenic himself. The practical joker meets the evil twin. Smiling, she drifted off.
Darkness like black earth pressing down on her face and flaring nostrils . . . She caught at the hands that held her, clinging as if to a rope offering escape from the dark abyss of sleep.
"It's all right." The voice recalled memories of other nights when she had waked crying in the night and found comfort at hand. "Just a bad dream. You're safe, you're okay."
"I'm sorry," Karen gasped. "Did I wake you?"
"I wasn't asleep." Peggy released her hands and sat down on the edge of the bed. "That must have been a bang-up nightmare. You sounded as if you were being strangled."
"Smothered."
"Oh, swell. Is this by any chance a dig at my smoking? I had the window open, but ..."
"I've had the same dream before." Karen sat up and
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