"And proficient."
"Nature's way," she said, "of reducing the number of real dopes! Tell
me something."
"Sure."
"If Yvonne hadn't busted in last night--?"
"The answer is no."
"That's what I thought."
"It wasn't you."
She stirred her red-brown hair. "I know that. If it had been me--if
I'd thought so--I'd have repressed my own feelings about your blonde
roommate."
"What's going to happen to her?"
Gwen curved one shoulder toward me and straightened it--a shrug that
dismissed responsibility. "How do you think a girl like me feels--about
one like her? She has everything. She's always had it. And thrown
herself away."
"Save the tough act for somebody you can fool!"
Gwen came over and put her fingers in my hair and turned my head up and
kissed me where it wouldn't show. "She wants to know--that's all. Why
shouldn't she? She's been dying all her life from not knowing."
"A hundred and fifty million people--"
"Save out a few million, Phil. Not everybody has the sordid past or no
past at all--or none to speak of. Some just grow up naturally."
"I'd like to meet 'em."
"Oh--" she sat down near me--"you'd never know, anyhow. Because
if you found out--or anybody found out--they couldn't go on being
natural any longer. It's against the law to be a person in this world.
Naturalness--that relaxation I spoke of--has to stay in the bootleg
department, to stay at all."
"Pity."
"You're telling me!" She thought awhile. "I'll give you some news. I
don't know whether Hattie would, or not. Marcia's here."